bakerstreet | hello hello.

[ Doyle was lucky for that one.]

I know so, I got the same issue, pal.

[ They could start a club of former dead men. Pushing the scotch, Wesley's way, to help get him talking.]

Well, I'm not gonna lie an' say I get why you all went an' joined evil inc. But I'm also not gonna judge. Dancin' too close to the devil might jus' taint you some. That's expected, I'd say, anyway.

Oh, I agree.

[He grimaces, draining his cup so that he can pour more of the offered bottle.]

Working with Wolfram and Hart allowed us to do tremendous damage from within, prevent greater evil from being done with the resources we commanded for altruistic purposes, and allowed us to strike at some of the most powerful figures within the organization. The amount of good that we accomplished in that time beggars imagining.

[The bottle is poured again, then nudged back toward Doyle.]

And all it cost us was two lives. Only one of whom didn't really deserve it. Not a bad price for all that good, wouldn't you say?

[He stares at the liquor in the cup again, distractedly swirling it in his hand, perhaps simply for something to focus on other than Doyle's face.]

[ Doyle stayed quiet as he listened. It was only when Wesley was nearly finished that he motioned the bar tender over. Ordering a bottle of the cheapest beer in stock. Once it was popped open and slid his way, the man walked off. And Doyle busied his hands holding the bottle.

Pondering his next words.

The silence hung for only about half a minute to two. Before he took a drink. ]

See, now you're gettin' t'the Mr. Spock o' life here. Does the greater good outweigh the smaller loss?

Though, if y' ask me, losin' you, or Fred was a bigger loss here. Soldiers down from the cause an' such. [ Looking down at the bottle. He had been revived after Fred's death, he never met her but, he'd heard enough. If he had been alive when they went to Wolfram and Hart, Doyle couldn't say for sure he wouldn't have been dazzled by the offer too. ]

Your loss mattered too, and despite what you thin' the powers wouldn'a brought you back if you deserved what happened, bud. Like I've told Ang' before, we all got somethin' t' atone for. Whatever yours is, you'll pull it off.

[ Only then does he take a long pull from the bottle of beer. Did he feel better after atoning for the death of Lucas and his family? No. Not at all. The scales might be balanced but the pain remained. ]

[His face takes on a harder expression.]

The fact that I am here, and she is not, is more than adequate proof that this resurrection wasn't based on worthiness.

[He realizes he's being a little... bitter, and sighs and takes another sip of scotch as he composes himself.]

But you see, that's the trouble. What happened at Wolfram and Hart, that's exactly what I do. It's what I always do. I make the choice that's... pragmatic, despite the consequences. The lesser evil for the greater good.

I assume it's the talent the Powers want from me.

The power work in mysterious ways, my friend. [ He spokes easily, idly picking at the label.] They're never keen t' explain their choices either, but there's gotta be a reason.

[ The talkative half demon let the silence settle until Wesley had composed himself and spoke again.]

I mean, that in itself sounds important. Some 'o us wouldn't be able t'make those choices, man. Gotta ask, though, do you think it was Wolfram and Hart, or do you think it might'a always been in you?

[ He'll never understand why they went to work for Evil Inc, but it's too late. ]

Of course it was always in me. It's exactly what I was trained for. It's how the Watcher's Council does business. They're ruthless.

[With a dark chuckle, he adds-]

Were, I suppose.

Always wondered 'bout how Watchers were trained. An' they start you lot off as tykes don't they?

[ A drink of his beer later he adds. ]

Do you think you're still ruthless, bud? Or maybe all o' this changed y? I tend t' think we can all change if we want to. Question is, do you want to?

[The questions were becoming... frustrating. Not least because he knows exactly how pertinent they are. He stalls for time by finishing his glass.

He had to give Doyle this: Under the unassumingly folksy persona, he understood people better than one would expect. It was genuinely disarming sometimes.

Wesley rubs at the bridge of his nose, staring down at the empty cup. For a moment, he ponders whether he could handle more- best not, probably, tempting though it may be. Instead, he sets the cup down.]

I don't know.

[The bluntness of the admission is a bit surprising even to himself.]

Part of me hates my ruthlessness, and another part of me thinks it's my only useful quality. You tell me which is better.

[ Doyle had reasons to be asking the questions. Less curiosity, and more trying to lead Wesley to the answers that were likely already within the man. A skill he had picked up in teaching, but had been much more useful with the downtrodden than it ever had been with third-graders.

His blue eyes studying the Englishman when he wasn't picking at the beer label.]

Nothin' wrong with not knowing, Wes. [ Doyle shrugged lightly then, but when Wesley tossed the ball back in his court, he had to think about it. Tapping the fingers of his right hand on the bottle as he pondered it. ]

My opinion? Honestly, I think it's a mighty fine trait t' have. We've all done things we can't write home to our mothers about, bud. I think it's important t'just not become that ruthlessness, use it as a skill, but keep yourself separate from it. If that makes a lick'o sense.

hello hello.

No worries at all!

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I EXIST I SWEAR sorry, this week at work was insane.

Never a worry at all! I had a busy weekend myself.

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