[Mayday clicks her tongue in distaste. Even if James didn’t say it, that reaction made it clear to her that her coworker had been making life difficult for people here too. She grumbles to herself.]

Stupid little pissant doesn’t know how to stay in his lane.

[“Little”, she says, never mind that he was half a foot taller than her. She doesn’t directly address the first question, moving instead right on to the second.]

Yeah, I am. Executive Mayday Foreman, at your service. [A loose, two fingered salute.] You know, when you said your name was James, I’d hoped that meant the rumors about a Rocket by the name running around were about you. Heh. Figures my luck would run out eventually.