They should be afraid, Kostos could say, but they've been having such a bizarrely nice time. He doesn't. He also doesn't offer up the ideas he has—because, however terrible he is at dealing with people in the moment, he's somewhat better at understanding them from a distance—because this is starting to feel uncomfortably like a planning session instead of a complaining session. Instead he swirls his ale and stares down into the whirlpool that results, and he says, "Sounds like a problem for Libertarians."

He's joking, a little, but also not joking at all. Call it self-aware seriousness. He knows he's being somewhat irrational.