Jim leans on his cue a little while he watches the balls ricochet around the table, flung all over the damn place by the force of her strike, just as swift and decisive as her hand-to-hand, it seems. He'd figured as much. And though his hand isn't hurting so much anymore, he could've sworn it was more than just bruised, so even if he can't feel it, he figures it makes sense to take it at least a little bit easy, letting her do this little amount of legwork.

"I hope this isn't a rude question, but you aren't a telepath, are you?" he asks as he considers his shot. This early in the game, he certainly has a lot of options to choose from, so he lines up on one of the solids.