"I've lived on the sea since I was big enough to steal a rowboat, but I can't breathe it if I go under," she tells him, while she considers her answer. "I certainly wouldn't hold a lack of gills against you."

Her expression is sober, a little melancholy; in the constant churning dogfight of survival on Alternia, there was precious little space for art.

"It depends upon whose art, I suppose. The blood-spatter collages of the Empress's enforcers are tantrum and propaganda as much as anything else. They dominate the visual medium in our culture, and I have never been enamored with them. But I've loved poetry and drama since before I lost my grublegs. And I wouldn't be a pirate if I didn't crave beautiful things."