[ He considers, just for a moment, whether Irving can continue on without knowing how he died. If Hickey weren't here...but Hickey is here, and so he nods. Instead of immediately explaining, he stands. He walks over to the kitchen cupboards, removes two tumbler glasses, and then over to another cabinet from which he pulls a bottle of whiskey.

This isn't a conversation for tea and biscuits.

He places both glasses down on the table, and fills them. His own he fills a reasonable amount. Irving's he fills higher, more akin to how Crozier took it when he did still take it. He stops the bottle, and sits. ]

I will spare you the details, so I ask that you tell me if you want to know more, about any of it.

[ His jaw tightens as he thinks about just what needs saying, and he holds his glass in his hands, but doesn't drink just yet. He can't quite meet Irving's eyes, though he tries. ]

Mr. Hickey killed you. And Mr. Farr, but to you he did something awful. He...brutalized you, with no love, no respect. And he used you, to make some of us think the netsilik had done it. He got an old woman and a child killed for it, and made sure none of the rest of us got any help. That's on top of his being a bloody mutineer, trying to undermine the Captain's authority to save his own skin. Never mind the rest of the crew, or that the Captain knew better than him what was what. So he got the lot of us killed too, because of it. He--

[ His grip tightens on his glass, and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks away, just for a moment. He hasn't told this to anyone, but it's Irving's business as much as it is his. ]

He didn't kill me, but he may as well have. I wouldn't have died if we'd gotten help, I'm sure of it. He doomed all of us with that, not just you. He doesn't give a fig about unity, and you shouldn't give a fig about him.