I haven't said anything because whatever my grievances, the Kampff and Jack aren't our enemy. I'm not so petty as to jeopardize whatever plans are in motion against the souvlaki, little as I may like them, and it was better for all of us that the souvlaki believe the "alien hunter" role died with the Bull.
[Well, no. That's a lie. He is definitely that petty. But he's decided against being that petty this time. Still, as Jack speaks, his expression sours. Which is probably a good sign - a Dorian gearing up for a real fight, instead of a tense argument, is a Dorian who is brash and cocky. It's a deeply instilled value, never let your foes see they've gotten to you. Jack has gotten to him, but he isn't a foe, so Dorian doesn't care whether he sees the way anger flashes when Jack says so cavalierly that he "doesn't give a shit about the Kampff."]
Fair enough. He never trusted you, for all too obvious reasons. Though, you know, when you have a "team," the onus is not actually on them to develop trust in you spontaneously. You instill trust, or you lose trust, and then your "team" decides it'd rather not rely on you. That might be something to keep in mind for the future, as you go about building teams, Jack.
But no, I'll give you that. Keeping knowledge of the souvlaki to yourself until they showed themselves was a shrewd tactical move. Some might say a shrewd tactical move showing a reckless indifference to the lives that might be lost when they do show themselves, but what do such fools know of hunting down aliens.
Some might say that if one of our helpful roles didn't know they oughtn't put their faith in someone seemingly trustworthy, that would be on you. Some might say that if when the first souvlaki revealed itself, no one could believe she'd committed the crime, things might have gone differently if anyone had any cause to know something like the souvlaki existed. Ah, but what could you have done. It isn't as though the life of an innocent man unnecessarily scapegoated came down to a single vote.
[He's aware he's rambling somewhat, a side effect of the liquor. He'd meant to come here and say what he knew and nothing more, but now he's getting into it, apparently. Ah, well.]
But no. I'll give you not telling them from the start. But there were two weeks between Elizabeth's reveal, when the Kampff were finally told they were meant to hunt down souvlaki, and Arumat's death. Two weeks in which you ought to have been certain they weren't souvlaki, else you'd be dead. And you said nothing. Why on earth would he have told you a damn thing, when you'd killed a man for seemingly no reason and never thought to mention you had the means to narrow them down? He wasn't a fool, and we both know a thing or two about hunting things that can possess your friends. He wouldn't have told me. He never gave me your name until he was dead, and only then to warn me not to trust you. Fasta Vass, he refused even to agree to try and scapegoat you, which for the record is what I would have preferred.
[Hmm. Maybe he oughtn't have said that much - only good for a barb, not much point in letting it be said. But in the end, Jack is right. He is so angry for the hopeless weeks they'd spent, believing Alice had given him an impossible job, not knowing someone in his own ranks had more information than he'd been given. He's a little more subdued as he continues.]
It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose. I won't say anything. I'll let you assure the others of your alien hunting prowess to your heart's content, no cause for alarm.
no subject
[Well, no. That's a lie. He is definitely that petty. But he's decided against being that petty this time. Still, as Jack speaks, his expression sours. Which is probably a good sign - a Dorian gearing up for a real fight, instead of a tense argument, is a Dorian who is brash and cocky. It's a deeply instilled value, never let your foes see they've gotten to you. Jack has gotten to him, but he isn't a foe, so Dorian doesn't care whether he sees the way anger flashes when Jack says so cavalierly that he "doesn't give a shit about the Kampff."]
Fair enough. He never trusted you, for all too obvious reasons. Though, you know, when you have a "team," the onus is not actually on them to develop trust in you spontaneously. You instill trust, or you lose trust, and then your "team" decides it'd rather not rely on you. That might be something to keep in mind for the future, as you go about building teams, Jack.
But no, I'll give you that. Keeping knowledge of the souvlaki to yourself until they showed themselves was a shrewd tactical move. Some might say a shrewd tactical move showing a reckless indifference to the lives that might be lost when they do show themselves, but what do such fools know of hunting down aliens.
Some might say that if one of our helpful roles didn't know they oughtn't put their faith in someone seemingly trustworthy, that would be on you. Some might say that if when the first souvlaki revealed itself, no one could believe she'd committed the crime, things might have gone differently if anyone had any cause to know something like the souvlaki existed. Ah, but what could you have done. It isn't as though the life of an innocent man unnecessarily scapegoated came down to a single vote.
[He's aware he's rambling somewhat, a side effect of the liquor. He'd meant to come here and say what he knew and nothing more, but now he's getting into it, apparently. Ah, well.]
But no. I'll give you not telling them from the start. But there were two weeks between Elizabeth's reveal, when the Kampff were finally told they were meant to hunt down souvlaki, and Arumat's death. Two weeks in which you ought to have been certain they weren't souvlaki, else you'd be dead. And you said nothing. Why on earth would he have told you a damn thing, when you'd killed a man for seemingly no reason and never thought to mention you had the means to narrow them down? He wasn't a fool, and we both know a thing or two about hunting things that can possess your friends. He wouldn't have told me. He never gave me your name until he was dead, and only then to warn me not to trust you. Fasta Vass, he refused even to agree to try and scapegoat you, which for the record is what I would have preferred.
[Hmm. Maybe he oughtn't have said that much - only good for a barb, not much point in letting it be said. But in the end, Jack is right. He is so angry for the hopeless weeks they'd spent, believing Alice had given him an impossible job, not knowing someone in his own ranks had more information than he'd been given. He's a little more subdued as he continues.]
It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose. I won't say anything. I'll let you assure the others of your alien hunting prowess to your heart's content, no cause for alarm.