[Julian makes a show of rubbing his ribs where the other man's elbow caught him, but even through his inebriated haze, he's listening. His expression grows thoughtful, turned inward-- he hasn't had time to speak much with anyone else in his position, though he has heard murmurs of dissent, briefly, in passing, whilst caught up in his own black cloud of confusion earlier in the day.]

Perhaps. But then again, a lot of people aren't prepared to admit what they really want. And even then, it's not all about sex and masochism, is it? Something deeper than that, like untrustworthiness, the kinds of people who should be kept under close control because left alone they just make a mess of things. Maybe it has more to do with something like that. Not many would admit to being that kind of person, would they?

[He scrubs a hand back over his face, trying to clear his head, focus his thoughts. It's a lost cause, however-- too much gin runs through him now to be pushed aside so easily.]

Whatever the case, they made no mistake when they decided my designation.

[Perhaps it is just a matter of chance, but he finds it hard to see it that way. Takes any iota of proof that he's trouble for anyone who comes into contact with him, and runs with it.]