[ The first question doesn't get an answer, nor does she say anything in response to his commentary on the idea. Sure, pal, find it interesting that she's been dumped on a backwater planet in the middle of nowhere space. Focus on the what rather than the why, that's a much better arrangement for her.

Daisy eyes the second glass as Poe sets it out, but it's obviously not for himself. Said glass isn't even touched until her interrogator takes a drink from his own, though — can't be too cautious when death feels like so much more of a risk here. ]

Not everyone relishes the idea of changing their skin like a pair of clothes. [ She picks up the glass, tilting it so the amber liquid within catches a bit of light. ] I happen to like this face. Don't you get tired of changing yours?

[ Again, true statements that don't commit her to an outright lie. Dancing around the truth is a skill she hasn't had to use in a while; she just hopes she's not too rusty at it. Lifting the glass to her lips, she breathes in the smell of the alcohol before taking a small sip that's followed by a larger one. It's not top-shelf by any means, but it's sure better than most of the stuff she'd been slinging all day. ]