Mercer gives a theatrical gasp, as if mortally affronted.

"What? Of course I am! The hell kind of question is that, man?"

And then it vanishes as the grin comes sliding back and he hops onto the rigging, scaling it for the barest handful of feet before swinging around to vault higher onto the mast.

If something seems to flicker near his heels for an instant, it's probably just a trick of the light.