She's not a romantic. She can't be, anymore. She doesn't expect that any dinner will lead to a meaningful connection on this island, not when most of the people there are made of smiles, when they feel like they're hidden behind a wall that Faye can't cross. Or maybe one that she just doesn't dare cross. But what she's been craving on the island is definitely company, company of a predictable sort, the way that the crew of Bebop became in time. She hasn't found that yet, just interesting people with pasts as shadowed as her own, and although the conversation is pleasant with Eames, in the meantime he's still part of that number. Maybe it'll change.

"Neither of us were paying that much attention to the game. I was mostly using it as a fallback, in case you turned out to be dull company," she smiles, brushing her fingers down a cheek. "Next time, the stakes will be higher."