Wow that. Sure was a reaction. Once again Erin wishes she had eyes to blink at people with because God damn.

Old memories of supplicants to Satrap Malloy try to surface, and Erin crushes them down ruthlessly.

"I really hope that was just being polite for where you're from, Mister Maximum."

(...Oh our god he's Max Squared.)

HE IS!

"I've no station to speak of and want none. You can expect lowborn manners outta me. Now -" Erin spears a coconut shrimp on her fork and holds it up. "Indulge me; what makes a good hot dog?"

Is she assuming? Some, but since he was bitching about luxury cruises let's call it an educated guess.