Of course she'd find a seat next to the one person in this place that's happy to be here. She gives Bishamon the once over, then the twice, and it's all colored with a shade of 'are you for real?'. And when she finds no trace of her own sarcasm there, Shepard is forced to conclude that yes, yes she is. Propping her arm on the bar, she settles her head in hand and sets into her drink with a flourish that swirls the blues and greens into a brackish purple.

"I'd say fortune's pretty shit right now." In other words, no, everything is not to her liking one bit. Her liking would be, to be back on her ship, her home, none the wiser to the existence of this place at all.