“Am I—?” Pal looks at the way Gideon is looking at his hand, and then down at his hand, half expecting to find a weapon of some kind has magically appeared there. “What? No. It’s a handshake. Do they not have handshakes on the N— I mean, in the Cohort?” And then he lets the hand drop. “It’s a form of polite greeting. Like this.” And this time he waves the hand. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. I have absolutely no doubt that you could knock me flat.”

Pal takes a small breath and wonders if Gideon Nav was this exacerbating last time they met, or if this was just a response to memory-loss-and-kidnapping induced frustration. “Are you hungry? I can help you get something to eat, if you like, once we’ve found our way out of here.”