Were it not for the iron-clad sense of decorum Ashe keeps pulled tight around her like a suit of armor, conducting herself like a queen even while in the most dire of straights and rubbing elbows with pirates - she might have let her surprise show, spotting Basch talking to the top of the bar and avoiding eye contact.

She doesn't have to look at Fran and Balthier to know they're enviably more relaxed about meeting up than she is. Unwilling to be thrown by something as silly as a foolish exchange with a man who is fathoms away from sober Ashe strides toward Basch, her shoulders squared, lips set in a thin line while she focuses on sizing the situation up.

"You must not lose consciousness before we arrive." There's a strange note to her voice, as though she were trying to sound comforting even while laying out a very firm provision. With a resigned sigh Ashe lingers beside Basch, her hand touching his side quickly before withdrawing, wordlessly signaling that she's ready to help him stand if it comes to that.