Mervin's helpfully taking off his jacket and working on rolling up his cuff. There's a faintly glowing old yavanite burn near his elbow and a spattering of bruises from a minor scuffle when he was in port earlier before he got into the station.

"So don't use puns around them unless if I'm prepared? I can handle that," Mervin looks around and gestures. "Want me to sit so you can get set up?"

James frowns at the bruises.

"Port bar," Mervin offers. "I'm fine."