[Kim's reaction to the nickname is instantaneous. His shoulders tense up and a grimace appears on his face. His first thought is to ask how Venkman even obtained that information, but that quickly gets flooded with a series of other old thoughts.

"So you're the pinball policeman? God, I'd love to see the other cases you get put on. Some kid lost their stuffed toy down the sewer? Gonna solve the mystery, Kimball?"

A game that required no skill and a childlike affinity to flashing lights, and he trained for nine months for this stupid case. Him, a thirty-eight year old man--

"--Trauma-and-Stressor Disorder. It's not official by any means, but....--"]

Don't call me that. [He practically snaps at Venkman, voice is unusually harsh. He's trying to rile you up, stupid. Just ignore it. It's not as bad as what he could have said. He exhales sharply, bringing his hand to his temple.] I'm still here because I am concerned about your condition, and it would be highly irresponsible for me to simply leave you here alone.

[Regardless of how much I would prefer to leave, professional duty comes above all.]