Oh, it's not a matter of attention - it's a matter of expectation. No, no, I like attention. Obviously. [ He gives a theatrical bow. It's one of his greatest assets - he's loud, he's witty, and so people want to keep him around. And they don't suspect a thing. Quiet people raise suspicion in the Vor scene. But noisy revelers? No. They blend right in. ] It's simply the work I don't like.

[ Then, with open amusement, he regards Wash. And feels a little twist of satisfaction. Finally, a little bit of information that wasn't dragged out of him piece by wretched piece. I'd make myself useful. Honest-to-God volunteered personal facts. ] What on earth is there to like about it? Monsieur Looking-For-Respect.