“Yes, Keres.” he responded. “You Jokor. Nice meet.”
He momentarily pondered this last word. That word seemed rather odd to him in this context. Why would you tell someone that they have nice meat when you see them for the first time?
He continued, “He,” pointing at the man-thing halfway in a sack, “Verduth. And he save you,” Keres finished now pointing at Jokor.
Kere's was emotionally overcome by the desire to fight this Jokor, but his instincts were adamantly opposed to casting him out. Considering the two, he could see a reason for either one. Although this person was a pickpocket, he had done nothing to Keres or Verduth, and this city seemed to operate entirely on the basis of minding one's own business, so by feeling the need to react to something that did not involve him he would cause more problems that he would possibly solve. On the other hand, unlike Verduth, who talked constantly, this one said very little at all. Thus he knew nothing about Jokor.
Verduth must be the deciding factor. Keres could not reconcile the two aspects quickly enough, and the pain of internal conflict was distracting him from the present.