It's -- oh for god's sake. You warned me. You warned me this would happen and we still came around to it anyway and I didn't even notice until I'd gone and done it.

[His voice is definitely scratchier, the accent more distinct, further lending credence to the idea that this is not in fact just a normal 'private business' sort of thing.

You know what? If this is how it always goes, if this is what this place expects, if he's going to be stuck in this tunnel until he gives in -- then fine. Fine. Fine. Like usual he skips over any of the more sensible or roundabout options and picks the mot direct, salt-the-earth choice. It's risky, but the corrupted part of him likes risk. He stops and rounds on Qrow, luckily thinking to point the harpoon gun down at the ground rather than directly at the other man. That would have probably not gone over well.]

I've got holes in my memory. Sometimes, if I get too close to them, that happens -- like when a tape skips or when you're goin' up the stairs and you miss a step. I don't know why Stanford and I split, all I know is it's bad enough I don't want to remember it. Generally I don't talk about it so this isn't a problem!