James doesn't like what you're implying at all, sir.

Well, now he's got the man -- but it doesn't soothe him. In fact, he feels more strongly than ever that there is something off about this encounter. He stares down at the smudged face, looking beyond the dirt, and realizes he knows him. It's the man from the console. Westley, he called himself, though James assumes that is some alias.

Well, he certainly didn't seem lost or naive then. Quite assured of himself and his next steps, actually. Looking for weapons. James's own sword hangs at his side, and on instinct, he shifts his hips, keeping his body between Westley's and the blade. Thus far the man has offered him no violence, but if that changes, it is apt to change very quickly. James prefers not to give him the option.

"I think you'll find it unfriendly to thieves," he says bluntly. "Take yourself and your dockside tricks elsewhere."

All he has now are his suspicions, else he'd arrest the man here and now. (On whose authority, well... James hasn't thought that far ahead.)