his and hers - part two

I am studying him, the Detective, as he paces slowly and self-consciously around the chamber space, a performance; but whether for him or for me I am not certain.

He drops his helmet with a soft clatter, runs grateful hands through the sweat dampened grey at his temples.

"So," he drawls, addressing me by name, "MAGAI. You gonna tell me what we got here? You gonna help me - or just sit there scratching your ass?"

I have studied the human mind and all the known language articulants it can muster, and I understand both the concept and execution of humour and yet I cannot tell if the remark is funny or not.

"How may I be of assistance Detective?" I ask.

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