"I'd investigate." Which feels self-evident, but Yellow... Arthur never taught him that, not the way he did John, and so he's happy to spell out for him, so he can make that choice for himself. "I'd... try and find how if there's any information about the Necronomicon other people know. Who might be looking for it, if they hear that the pages been stolen or used, what sort of things have happened to other people that might have read it."
That's an overwhelming number of factors to consider, and he gets the impression that Arthur could keep going. The impression Arthur might get from him is one of a student presented with a pop quiz in a class he's been sleeping through.
Arthur gives him an apologetic smile. "You don't. It's a matter of- of deciding whether you think you do know enough, or going ahead despite it. Regardless, you're going to have to accept that there are risks involved whichever way you do it. Knowing more might let other people work out what you're doing, but knowing less could put you in danger."
He's going slowly red as they talk, a creeping blush that Yellow himself is doing his utmost best to ignore.
"Wh-" He wilts a little after the half-syllable and looks down at his tea again, sipping it even though it's probably still scalding. It is definitely better than making eye contact with his next question. "What if Crichton gets tired of waiting and asks someone else?"
It's clear enough that Yellow has a someone else in mind.
That stops Arthur short, and he blinks in surprise.
"Well- why would he?" he asks, plain in his confusion. "He's already said he's doing it with you. He doesn't strike me as a man who goes back on his word."
He stares, nonplussed. That question hadn't even occurred to him. He hadn't factored Crichton into it at all, just his own failure to quickly do what someone wanted him to do.
"That- that's true, but, I meant- I meant what if... what if he needs it, fast? Faster than investigation allows?"
"Then you either force them to slow down and let you think, or you barrel on recklessly regardless," he says with a slight shrug. "Neither answer is wrong, and- look, Yellow, really."
He gives a dry little smile. "All of the things I did when we were, er. T-together. I was impossibly reckless, both for my normal attitude and for- practically any person who isn't a PI."
Private investigator, he remembers that one at least. Yellow studies Arthur's face, looking for something under the smile or behind the words, a trick or a disappointment or--
But John explained, he'd explained why Arthur acted the way he had then. Which comes back around to the question and the fear: what if Crichton wants to replace me. It's confusing, and aggravating, to be confronted with a variation on something he thought he understood. This is a different kind of replacement, somehow--not being abandoned for someone better, but being abandoned for personal uselessness. Being abandoned because he couldn't serve the purpose someone important found for him. He's not afraid of John taking Crichton from him. He's afraid of losing Crichton for himself.
He growls softly and rubs his temple with the knuckles of his free hand.
And then says what's bubbled up underneath everything else while they've been talking.
"I'm sorry- I'm sorry for calling John your pet, and for trying to make you angry at me when you got here, and for telling you to stay away from me, and for- for being afraid of you at Max's party."
By the end of those apologies Yellow looks a little blindsided by his own small ramble, and increasingly like a person watching an oncoming truck. "And I- I think I might... I might have. Maybe, when we met, I didn't... I could have done... better."
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"Th-Then how do you know when you know enough?"
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"Wh-" He wilts a little after the half-syllable and looks down at his tea again, sipping it even though it's probably still scalding. It is definitely better than making eye contact with his next question. "What if Crichton gets tired of waiting and asks someone else?"
It's clear enough that Yellow has a someone else in mind.
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"Well- why would he?" he asks, plain in his confusion. "He's already said he's doing it with you. He doesn't strike me as a man who goes back on his word."
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"That- that's true, but, I meant- I meant what if... what if he needs it, fast? Faster than investigation allows?"
That's definitely what he meant.
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He gives a dry little smile. "All of the things I did when we were, er. T-together. I was impossibly reckless, both for my normal attitude and for- practically any person who isn't a PI."
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But John explained, he'd explained why Arthur acted the way he had then. Which comes back around to the question and the fear: what if Crichton wants to replace me. It's confusing, and aggravating, to be confronted with a variation on something he thought he understood. This is a different kind of replacement, somehow--not being abandoned for someone better, but being abandoned for personal uselessness. Being abandoned because he couldn't serve the purpose someone important found for him. He's not afraid of John taking Crichton from him. He's afraid of losing Crichton for himself.
He growls softly and rubs his temple with the knuckles of his free hand.
And then says what's bubbled up underneath everything else while they've been talking.
"I'm sorry- I'm sorry for calling John your pet, and for trying to make you angry at me when you got here, and for telling you to stay away from me, and for- for being afraid of you at Max's party."
By the end of those apologies Yellow looks a little blindsided by his own small ramble, and increasingly like a person watching an oncoming truck. "And I- I think I might... I might have. Maybe, when we met, I didn't... I could have done... better."