It wasn't because it was Devlin, it wasn't any sort of personal feeling that the young man had towards the galdor. He couldn't have anything against this particular professor because he hadn't seen him before. He didn't often see galdori these days; he couldn't be trusted to be civil typically so it was easier just to keep him in areas with other scraps, keeping a very close eye on him if they had to move out of the scrapyard. But Devlin represented the enemy, or one of the enemies at least, the main one. Thus, he got angry but it simmered down, dropping beneath the surface to stew.
Lars butted in to get the passive to shut up and Fionn made a 'pft' sound, rolling his eyes in the dark. Sure, he could chit-chat, whatever he wanted. The blond didn't much care right now, more concerned with manoeuvring the body, resenting the stupid corpse when he had to bend down to get it properly into position. In spite of his words though, he didn't actually intend to bowl the galdor over. He might be petulant but he wasn't
completely stupid. He shoved the lump with his foot to make sure that he could roll freely before lunging forward to catch the man with the back of his ankle. As soon as the older man moved, he lifted his foot and the man moved of his own accord having been caught teetering on the edge of the step.
"Bye, Fred, have a nice trip. You bastard," he muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the pain that shot through him. Clock the Circle, he was going to feel this tomorrow and the effort of carrying the patron certainly wouldn't have helped.
His eyes flicked between the two older men, wondering why Lars was bothering to ask the golly his reasons for doing this. As if he'd answer. He wasn't like he had any obligation to them but they did have one to him. The rebel could spit and curse but in spite of the lashings of his tongue, he knew it was in his best interest to just do what he was told this time. Cutting off his nose to spite his face wouldn't do him any favours. So he'd let the man lead the way if he was so inclined, see where this would go as he listened to the thump of the body going down the steps.
The mention of a report together with the flash of a smirk was met with a sullen glance from the passive, wondering if the man was going to complain about how they hadn't carried the body down the stairs. He was too heavy for that and one of them would have to go backwards so why bother when it was an easy matter of a good push? The garbage commented earned a snort though.
"Garbage is right," he muttered, flicking a look in his fellow passive's direction, daring him to complain that he'd opened his mouth again. However, his gaze moved back to the galdor at his next words, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered what he'd said. There was something off there, something that he couldn't put his finger on.
"Oh yeah, we'll go up to the nearest golly and say, 'Hey, this other golly was wandering around under where the baths are, I'd like to report him please' and they'll say, 'Shut your mouth, you cheeky bastard, what were you doing down there anyway?' and then I'd get punished. Lars might get away with it though."
His gaze moved to the other blond, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Maybe they'd get out of this after all and Lars wouldn't have to suffer for his fuck-ups. The smile broadened a little at the notion that the man might get away with murder.
"Alcohol? Have you got some on you, golly? Gonna pour some on him so he smells of it or- No, even if you do, don't do that. Bastard wouldn't have been worth pissing on if he was on fire, never mind wasting something worthwhile on him now," he pointed out, hands still in his pockets as he started a slow descent after the galdor.
There was still something off about what he'd said, something that niggled at the young man's brain, just within reach but failing to click into place. His expression was pensive as he considered, waiting for that moment of connection. It didn't come.
Fionn reached the bottom of the stairs, head tilted to the side as he considered the body again, the horrible angle. Yeah, that looked like a legitimate way to break your neck, all right. But Devlin didn't intend to leave him there, that was clear and that was when the suspicion grew, a question sliding into place.
"Wait... if he fell down the stairs and it was a drunken accident and... we went to get help then why would he not be here? Where are we bringing him instead?" he questioned slowly, considering the matter, his mind suddenly whirring. He'd said
revive. Was there something he could do -
could have done - if he'd gotten to Fred earlier? No, of course not. You couldn't undo a snapped neck, could you? Golly magic couldn't do that... could it?
"You... you'd have to have brought him to a special place to try to revive him?" he suggested although even as he said it, he wondered. If it was magic then... why not here? What else could it be?
"Laboratory?" he asked, voice going up slightly in pitch, hairs raising on the back of his neck. Experiments, passives that had heard, things, seen things and talked about those who went to a lab. Apparently it was a bad, bad place. He'd heard from another passive in another wing who'd heard it from passive that some of them went there and didn't come back at all. He swallowed. Surely there was more than one lab on the campus and if there was anything fishy well... if the man wanted to do something then he could have done it already.
Unless he's waiting to trap you somewhere and needs you to come quietly, his mind whispered, drawing a small shudder from him that he changed into a shrug.
He'd used magic to affect his instincts already, hadn't he? If he really wanted him to go somewhere willingly, Devlin could probably just make it happen. He was overthinking this but this thing did feel off no matter how he looked at it. Brown eyes went to Lars, teeth worrying at his lips while he came to a decision. If this would guarantee the golly's silence then he'd do it. If they left, he wasn't sure that he'd hold his tongue and he hadn't said that he would so do the job. Just drop dead Fred in a lab, let the golly do whatever he wanted with the corpse. Lars didn't deserve to get written up for this. He'd saved his life; Fionn owed him.
"All right, same as before and I'll go backwards again as well," he informed the other passive, bending with a grimace of pain, doing his best to ignore the live bruises on his torso as he dealt with the man's legs again, hoisting him over his shoulder as he had before with a groan.