 What wouldn't Casey say to describe himself?
But—and this was the 'but' that was likely to deprive the System of my activities—even experimenting with them was illegal even if it needed to be done; also, I had promised not to rat on him before taking the job. Well, Casey Ritter may be a lot of things we won't mention, but he doesn't rat on his clients. So there I was, closeted with the ten members of the S.S. Customs Court, getting set to hear the gavel fall and the head man intone the sentence that would take me out of circulation for a long, long time. I'd argued with 'em, but inside I'd been all set for the sentence, and even sort of reconciled to it. "You've no doubt heard tales of the strange population of Jupiter," he said. "Aw, hell, judge, that's just one of those screwy fairy tales! How could any—" The senior judge rapped ferociously, and I skidded to a halt. Well, a cross between a scorpion and a grasshopper, to be accurate. The way that bunch of stuffed shirts in the S.S.C. made a gold-barred chimpanzee out of me has broken my spirit and turned me into an honest trader. Me, Casey Ritter, slickest slicker in the Solar System, led like a precious infant right where I'd flatly refused to go!
 He'd do anything for money
 He'd never give up a client  He's a master smuggler  He's traveled all over the solar system  He'd do anything for money