Ernest laughed with her, and nodded in agreement. "Apparently it doesn't matter what you read to them at that age, but I don't know, I think it's got to have some sort of formative effect if that first thing you're hearing about is about some brainless bimbo who can't even give saving herself a shot," he admitted.
He smiled at her own explanation of absinthe, especially the virginity comment. "I think the key is to drink it slowly. I was going to say it didn't make me crazy, but uh - over-confident, invincible? I'd do knife tricks and challenge people to Russian Roulette, that sort of shit," he admitted, with a self-depreciating tone. God, he was an ass sometimes.
He did catch the slight blush, and there was a definite sort of flutter in his chest in the moment. But the damn thing was that he really did like her. Fuck. "Maybe I won't have to. The island shall provide," he teased softly, as Gatsby mixed them both a different drink.