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"A boat," he says, not looking up. "A ship I sailed in once. A long time ago." He finishes the last bit and then glances over to him. "Sit with me?" He moves over to make room.

Oh. Oh hell yes.

"Of course," Dorian says, with a little nod. He moves to sit next to Godric, looking over his art now that they're close. "I've got a little artistic talent myself. I used to paint portraits. I haven't done it in literal years, though."

Not since Toby died.

"Dorian Gray paints portraits," he says with a hint of a smile, pausing his work. He's still working on his technique and has only been sketching for about a year with lessons, but he definitely has made progress.

"I wanted to ask you about Sweeney."

Dorian briefly looks a little put-out. He pushes that behind a cavalier little frown as he dramatically sighs.

"So it's business, not pleasure. Pity. Still, I'll answer whatever questions you have about the man."

Hit 'em up, Godric.

"Mm, I did make my intentions clear before you came," he reminds him, giving him a bit of a nudge with his elbow. "But, before I ask, I want to know if I can trust you to keep this conversation between us? He and I - have an agreement. We don't get in each other's way. But something's happened and I'm worried for him in a way that I need to ask. But he would be angry if I was asking."

"You do know he's not my inmate," Dorian points out. But he can tell this is serious. And really? Dorian likes the man. If there's something wrong with Sweeney, he wants to know and he wants to help.

"But until he gets a permanent warden, I suppose I'm the best person to talk about this with. Go ahead—I'm listening."

"But you do work with him," he says softly. "And he's been so reclusive over the past few months that I'm simply following up with any leads."

Godric leans back. "He's been acting oddly since our last flood. Since your arrival, that is. Almost as if he's a different person."

He starts there, hesitating.

Dorian, who's only dealt with Sweeney when he's his slightly grumpy normal alcoholic leprechaun self, doesn't really get what Godric's putting down. But he's smart enough to save all questions for the end of the presentation. Instead, he simply gives the vampire a little nod.

"Go on."

Another hesitation. Another momentary stillness. "I don't want to tell more than that if you haven't seen it for yourself," he says gently. "But - will you simply keep an eye on him? Know that there is something happening under the surface?"

"You know that's not very helpful," Dorian points out. "If I don't know what to look for, there's a high chance I might miss it."

He likes Godric, but 'keep an eye on him because there's something going on that I don't want to tell you more about' is quite vague in Dorian's mind.

He lets out a breath. "You will know. He will not be himself. He will not recognize you. He will think himself someone else."

Godric looks up to the stars. "It has not happened before. He showed up to my cabin with flowers. Not himself. Sweeney is terrified of me. This man did not know me."

Dorian frowns, as he thinks this over. Well. That's something.

"Is this a Jekyll and Hyde sort of situation? Does Sweeney remember what happened after he changes his personality?"

That's an interesting point. Godric doesn't know for sure, not after what Annie's told him, so he shrugs. "I'm not certain," he admits.

"I'll probably have to ask him that myself," Dorian lightly teases. "Because if not? There's your problem."

"Dorian..." he sighs. "I'd rather you didn't ask him anything."

But he trusts that he won't.

"I know," Dorian says, with a little shrug. "But at the moment, you've told me to look out for something that you barely know what's happening yourself. We're going to need more information at some point and observation can only go so far."

He looks back to his sketchbook and opens a new page, idly moving the pencil across the blank sheet. "I know," he admits. "I know, and I wish I could be more specific. But is it not enough to be worried about a fellow passenger and just...wish to do something about it? I care for him, as much as he hates me. I don't want to see him suffering. But I'm certain if he saw me interfering, it would make things worse."

Dorian looks over at the sketchbook for a moment. Would him interfering make this worse? He doesn't know. Probably, he knows he's got a nasty habit of making things worse just by simply existing. But there's a small little part of him that hopes it wouldn't, that hopes he really could do this warden thing.

"I suppose that's where we differ," he eventually says, with a little shrug. "I'm tired of just wishing. If I can do something, I will, before it's too late."

"Hm, you're one of the few who don't know my history," he tells him softly. It may seem off topic but...he hesitates.

"I spent a long time doing nothing. Being a monster. And now - well - I feel as if I spend my time simply making everything worse for those around me when I try and do good."

Dorian can't help but let out a small little laugh at that. Well. They really are two of a kind.

"Obviously my monstrosity pales to yours, what with the fact that you're old as dirt and all, but I'm the same. I was...not a nice man for most of my life. I've got the portrait to prove it. Even now, what with me signing onto the Barge and all, I still don't know if I could call myself nice or even good."

He pauses for a moment before admitting, "But the biggest mistake of my life happened when someone did something destructive and I just watched. I can't let that happen again."

"I am sorry," he tells him and it's genuine. "I think many of the wardens here think that of themselves. That they are monsters. That they have done something they need to make up for."

He reaches over, places a cool, gentle hand on Dorian's arm. "I wonder how many of them are actually right. I would guess not many."

And Dorian places his hand on top of Godric's, mostly so he could give it a little squeeze. He'd guess not many as well. But them...well, they're different.

"Everybody is their own worst critic," Dorian sighs. "And it's easy to see your flaws when you're looking for them."

He doesn't move his hand away. Instead, his fingers gently drop down, pressing lightly against his pulse there. His heartbeat. It's a soothing gesture for Godric, who finds comfort from his humans in small ways.

"I have had two thousand years to be flawed," he tells him. "And I have only spent the past decade or so looking for them. When I say I was a monster, Dorian, I was truly a feared creature. I would follow soldiers at war so I could slaughter them at will and no one would miss them."

Idly, Dorian wonders what's worse. Senseless mass slaughter or his sort of older monstrosity: a cold, calculated, focused desire to ruin one single person at a time. Both awful in their own way.

"I should show you my portrait one of these days," he muses. "Because when I say I was a monster, I'm just as serious and sincere as you are."

"I believe you," he assures him. "I believe that you have done things in your life that you're not proud of. That would make you a monster. But - I also believe that you are here to make it better. To do better."

He thinks of the reason he came here. To talk to him about Sweeney. How he trusted Dorian to do the right thing and help, even though they have only met a few times.

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