"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise. You've a backbone, after all," Philip answers, clearly delighted by Reid's response. He shouldn't be, he knows he's playing with fire in these circumstances, but he can't seem to help himself. It would be far more dangerous if he was the only one wearing a secret on his back, but because he isn't, because he's not alone in this exposure, he can't help but have a little bit of a laugh with it. There's simply nothing else to be done. He's making an enemy, a real adversary, but he can't help but find a little pleasure in that, too. There are all kinds of interesting people in Darrow, but he has to admit, it's been a little too easy to get what he wants and if Reid might offer some opposition, Philip can't help but find it exciting.
"And why should I feel remorse?" he asks, genuinely interested in what Reid might say. "I was engaged to perform a duty, these men were trying to take what belonged to my employer. Had they stood aside, they would have had nothing to worry about." And then there's a flicker of a smile and he pours two mugs of coffee, then sets one down on the table for Reid to take. "Besides, they were Africans. They don't view life and death as Europeans do."
Usually he's careful with what he says, he's learned already that treatment based on race isn't so common here in Darrow, although he thinks the general population is far less understanding than they choose to pretend. He uses language carefully, does what he can to see how others speak before he says anything they might consider out of line, but he expects all bets are off with Reid in this situation. Things are very different here and will be when they meet again in the future.
He sits down then, settles into one of the chairs and studies Reid carefully. "And what was your drug of choice, Agent? Alcohol seems a little low brow for you. Cocaine? No, you don't look like you'd be particularly interested in that sort of high. An opiate then? Something to relax you, smooth out all the edges of working such a high stress job?" He grins then, quick and wolf like. "I'll bet that made you a hell of a fuck."
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"And why should I feel remorse?" he asks, genuinely interested in what Reid might say. "I was engaged to perform a duty, these men were trying to take what belonged to my employer. Had they stood aside, they would have had nothing to worry about." And then there's a flicker of a smile and he pours two mugs of coffee, then sets one down on the table for Reid to take. "Besides, they were Africans. They don't view life and death as Europeans do."
Usually he's careful with what he says, he's learned already that treatment based on race isn't so common here in Darrow, although he thinks the general population is far less understanding than they choose to pretend. He uses language carefully, does what he can to see how others speak before he says anything they might consider out of line, but he expects all bets are off with Reid in this situation. Things are very different here and will be when they meet again in the future.
He sits down then, settles into one of the chairs and studies Reid carefully. "And what was your drug of choice, Agent? Alcohol seems a little low brow for you. Cocaine? No, you don't look like you'd be particularly interested in that sort of high. An opiate then? Something to relax you, smooth out all the edges of working such a high stress job?" He grins then, quick and wolf like. "I'll bet that made you a hell of a fuck."