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"In that case, yep! I'll absolutely be fine. I'm fine no matter what!" Dorian laughs, giving Johann a shit-eating grin before shifting to a little laugh.

"Yes, yes, good for you, sweetheart," he purrs. "You're immune from the woes of the world no matter where you go, but you still complain about being outdoors."

"You're also complaining," Dorian points out. "Besides, if you wanted, you could be immune from the woes of the world yourself. Just graduate first."

"And go back to what?" he mutters, glancing at him with annoyance.

"Whatever you want. Florian. A new world where nobody knows your name. A big city with so sorts of lovely little back streets to hide the corpses in."

"He's dead," he tells him stiffly. "And there's no world I want to go back to."

"Stay on as a warden and you can bring him back," points out the man who knows that Johann isn't going to ever be a warden.

"As for that other point? Honestly, you'd fit well in my world. And I'm sure there are others you'd fit in as well. You just need to expand your horizons."

As tempting as it is, he would never be able to.

But he aches for him again and that sadness and anger wells up in him enough that he goes silent for a while.

"Sure thing, boss."

That's a silence that says something. A silence that Dorian knows he should press at.

Not now, though.

"I should show you London in the Enclosure. After all, we both know we aren't stopping at a fucking city any time soon."

"I saw London," he mutters. "Sebastian showed me."

Which reminds him, and is a good opportunity for him to point out -

"He's my friend. And I haven't killed anyone in that time. I think it's nearly time for you to pay up."

Note to self: bother Sebastian to double-check this.

"When we're back on the ship, I'll send a message to the Admiral to let you have your full healing back. Anyway, my London's different from Sebastian's. It's much more modern, for one."

"You keep using that word, but I'm not certain you really understand what it means," he mutters. "Modern doesn't mean a damned thing."

"It does to me," Dorian shrugs. "I've lived through what most people are now nostalgic about it. And I honestly can't see why they would go back to times like that."

"Because you're a bitter, cynical bastard," he remarks lightly.

"Takes one to know one!" Dorian happily chirps. You're a cynical bastard too, babe.

"Yes, but I have a reason to be. You did this to yourself."

"Mmm, I doubt that. So humor me. What's your reason for being a cynical bastard?"

"You've read my file, sweetheart. You should know."

"I do," Dorian nods. "And I know that other people would have taken what happened to them and responded with grace. Or tenacity. Or a stubborn desire to make it so that never happens to anyone else. You did this to yourself just as much as I did."

"What happened to me? My dear Herr Gray, what do you think happened to me?" he challenges, bristling a little.

"My darling Johann, I've read your fucking file. I know exactly what happened to you—and I know what happened to you as a child."

There's a pause as Dorian decides how to phrase this.

"You aren't the only person in the world who was hurt by someone just for the hell of it."

He rolls his eyes. "Nothing happened to me except I learned how to do what I needed to survive," he huffs.

"Don't bullshit me," Dorian dryly responds. "You're terrible at it anyway."

"It's working so fucking far," he grumbles.

"So fucking far doesn't mean shit. As far as I'm concerned, you need something that works always."

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