"Indeed." There is almost no word that Jim could finish that sentence with that Loki hasn't heard directed at him before now, and he takes the aborted insult calmly. This is actually the part of a prank he likes best: the outrage of the victim. Not that this was just a prank; there is more at stake here than a laugh, or, as the case may be, a momentary psychological breakdown.

"That's more or less the size of it," he admits, leaning back in his chair again. "There are many forces at work in my world. I had to know if you were associated with any that were likely to come around and bite us in the collective arse."

That might be paranoia. "For what it's worth, the threat of piracy was merely a red herring. The Statesman is, as far as I can tell, a solid enough craft to get her people from one point in space to the next." And even if not, that's a moot point.

There's a flicker of something more grim in his eyes for a moment.

"I'd rather you didn't punch me, but there's no call to be impressed, either. This is what I do. This is what I am."