"Look, Teach," Amos says, staring out into the middle distance. His tone is impassive, bordering on friendly. Detatched. "I can think of a few reasons not to kill you right now. The crew'd get upset. We'd lose out on a contract. Bad for morale. Make me look untrustworthy."

He looks up at Gideon, an amiable smile on his face, meant to comfort. He doesn't know why it comforts, or why, at times, it seems to discomfort, but it's often the most solid choice in his arsenal.

"But those are all reasons, you know?"