Look, he can't help it. Most people back home are too scared to say boo to him, some spunky git threatening to climb up onto a bar stool is just... he remembers being that young and stupid. It's like a kitten threatening him. He's gotta laugh a little.

"Alright, alright, cool your jets," still half-chuckling he reaches up to carefully peel the tape from Ody's shell with a delicacy that betrays his thick fingers, catching the knife in his free fingers.

"Here we are. Watch the passion fingers this time, mate," he suggests as he hands off the crustacean, keeping the knife for himself.

"He a mascot or something?"