Gene was all up in James' face in a second, puffing his cheeks and prodding the headband on his forehead (holding back some of his wild hair), the white cloth showing a
strange symbol printed on it in gold and black.
"I didn't crash! You know who I am? You know what this means, yeah?" he was poking the headband with his index-finger repeatedly. "This means I
don't crash, I did the Wukong stretch in 1 minute and 31 seconds!"
He puffed out his chest, looking utterly pleased with the beatdown he'd given, before opening one of his eyes, giving James a look... James, who had gotten over to sit somewhere.
"I'm here to save you guys' asses, yeah! Figured I'd get the drop on those G-Men spooks with some secret training, know what I mean?" He beamed, somersaulting up on the table again, before skipping down, twirling on his heel and slipping down backwards on one of the seats, looking smug. "Ain't no one get the drop on Gene Zaft."
He would've said Zoom there. In fact, there seemed to be some kind of... bubble on reality, a missing "zoom", and it hovered in the air for a while before it went away, awkward and embarrassed about having blown its chance to make it to the big-leagues.