I could, he thinks, and have no doubt that if he knew it he'd think I would, and, No, because he's a paranoid little twit with a bee in his industrial-strength bonnet. "I doubt he thinks I'd need to," he says aloud, with a sour little smile. "Saa na... sputter? Throw things? Yare, who knows?" he shrugs with an elegant turn of the wrist.