Jude knows Bodhi, just not about Bodhi. The haphazardly edited version of his life that says cargo pilot with a few bad habits and little direction, the one that doesn't give any reason for the way he is. It's almost entirely true to his life and also doesn't explain a thing. And at the moment he's tempted to tell Jude... a little more of the truth. But that could make him worse right now, could just upset Jude, could ruin everything if he lets slip too much or the wrong thing. So he has to trust that it's already true, that Jude knows him, and he'd know what happened. The renewal of that promise makes him finally extend a clumsy, hesitant hand toward Jude, just sliding it across the table. He doesn't really want to, but he's had good results in trying to thank Jude for every sweet, considerate gesture.

This is one that's not working, but fuck he appreciates the effort. "Th-thanks, I... I know you would. But I don't mean--It's just, how many times have we done that already? What happened to the Kira who was here before?" Bodhi's a methodical thinker, but he's also a pulp-addicted imaginist from a world with space magic. And, well, the idea of endless, carefully programmed, inexhaustibly replaceable clones is one that doesn't stretch his credulity much.