Jone is beginning to sense the rough outline of a pattern, but she hasn't caught it yet. Silas has a mind the like she isn't accustomed to, something she attributes to religion and him being from another fucking planet.

"He's a prick," Jone says with a smile. "Lucky, I get on with those."

She's heard people call him by the other name. It's a pun.

Also, Silas is a prick.