Isabela gave him a slap push when he pinched her, "Good to know you have eyes to with, kitten." She was very aware of her own personal appearance and looks, sometimes too aware. But he was right. There was money to be made in a tavern that didn't have any sort of reputation other than to get royally snockered and to have a bit of fun. That's exactly what this place needed. It was too clean, too uptight, it needed some real fun.
"This is true," she noted, "And should we ever find ourselves in need or presented with the opportunity for something less than legal, we have a good front for it. And the best part is, it'd pull in our sort of crowd." The sort of people that weren't all about propriety and more about bending the rules. Rules were more like guidelines for her anyway. Unless they were her own rules.
"A good tavern needs a name," she said and reached up to play with some of his hair, "My favorite was called The Pearl. There was a girl there, covered in tattoos. You should have seen her..." she drifted off as if recalling the memory and smiled to herself.