[ Hickey does wonder what it's like, for Irving, to be locked into such a battle with himself, day in, day out. At grimy little fingers, he examines his hands, idly. Little, maybe, but they're quite clean, actually. He's considering raising that issue when Irving continues on, and—really, he might pity him, had he been generally capable of the feeling.

Somehow, he keeps the smile off of his face. Instead, he leans in, keeps his voice low and soft. ]

Well, I think you'll have to have a firm hand. You'll have to apply yourself. But I do have faith in you, sir. I think you're quite capable of giving it a long...hard...try.

[ He sits back, affect light again. ]

It could begin with a confession. Would you like to hear about the things I've done? Do you wonder, sometimes?