[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

He gave Deitha a soft smile, hoping she intuited his distress at having to deal with Decker. He was still so angry when it came to that woman. He wasn't sure if that anger was solely directed at Oriana, or if he was also angry with himself. There has been a time he had liked the woman. Once he would have described her as down-to-earth rather than classless. There was a time when he might have said she was confident and beautiful rather than cheap. Times changed.

"Spagyric alchemist actually," he corrected, not because he actually cared about Deitha getting the nomenclature right, but for the sake of having something to say. "But of course you are right. If you look at the alchemic make up of agapanthus it's actually a mild..." his voice trailed off as Oriana finally moved out of earshot.

Odhrán let out a sigh. "Sorry about that, Deitha." The poor thing had to be so confused. She'd dubbed him a coward before, but that didn't mean she'd anticipated him to have a fight or flight response in front of a cheap and classless London bar owner. Alas, it had happened now. He wasn't sure what to say or how to explain himself either. Oriana was still around and he didn't want to give her an opportunity to see him vulnerable. The last time he had done that hadn't ended well.

"Did you know that Decker was the last person I saw before you and Aoibheann found me?" There. Deitha was usually good at connecting the dots, so she would probably come to the right conclusion in the end. "I had a couple of drinks at Revolution after our joint trip."

What he really wanted to say was 'do you remember the list of names I talked about with my father?' and 'Decker is on the list.' Of course he couldn't, but maybe she'd get there on her own? He suddenly felt tempted to push the thought into her head, but that wasn't a thing he was entirely confident doing anymore. His magic was too unstable in his opinion. Or perhaps he was just too afraid to open himself up like that again. Allowing people such insight into his soul had made him vulnerable.

"If she offers us anything on the house when she comes back don't take it," he said to Deitha. "I wouldn't put it past Oriana to try something stupid." He wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting, but something. They had unfinished business still.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha gave a sidelong glance to make sure the battle-axe had sauntered away, before saying anything. She had a distinct feeling that somehow Decker thought she'd won this round. The thought that Decker might actually have done so was not a pleasant one. It was one of those thoughts that rankled at the back of the mind.

She looked Odhrán square in the face and muttered, "I can't stand that woman."

Then the full meaning of Odhrán's words caught up with her. She had wondered what had happened to him that night before she'd found him with Aoibheann's help. It hadn't occurred that it might have been a run-in with Decker on a more... physical level, though it wasn't that far from Revolution. Far enough to stagger in some kind of state, perhaps.

To be fair it had been quite an event in the lead-up to it... that would have been in the aftermath of their trips to Azkaban. The list of names. Was Decker on it? It would explain a few things if she was, but that was a question for another time.

"Anything on the house?" Deitha laughed dryly. "Oriana would sooner cut her arm off than give something away." Though, she reflected, "It must be pretty bad if she did."

[Oriana Decker]

Oriana had watched those two talk quietly amongst themselves, and then she heard Deitha laughed. Clearly a joke at her expense. Still, she'd promised that Mr O'Doilly a gin and gillywater, sans anything else, and that she was going to deliver.

She saunted back over to their table, drink in hand.

"Here ya go, Mr O'Doilly, one gin an' gillywater with nuffin' in it just as you aaaaahsked." She did wonder if - just to rub it in, she should gift it on the house, but you need to have a point of escalation. "That'll be 24 knuts, luv."

"Come an' see me aaaanytime if ya wahnt somefing, luvver." She winked. There. Just enough to put Mr Fancypant's nose just out of joint.

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

"I dunno about that," Odhrán commented wryly. "She used to offer me free drinks all the time." Thinking about it now, he wondered if Oriana was smarter than he gave her credit for. She'd lulled him into a false sense security and made her play when he was weak and vulnerable. Yes, there was the distinct possibility that he had underestimated her. It probably was that stupid accent. He found it difficult to think of anybody as strategic and calculated that dragged their vowel sounds in the way Oriana did.

"I get a feeling though that she won't be as generous today." If he could only remember what had happened that night a little more clearly. He was sure it had begun with Oriana spiking his drink, but the rest was less clear. Maybe, he could look into her mind to get that information? It really was a shame that his legillimency was so unreliable these days.

Odhrán was about to say something more, when, from the corner of his eye, he could see Oriana approaching again. In a childish play, she was serving him his gin and tonic without a slice of lemon. Was she expecting to get a rise out of him for that? Ah, she probably wasn't entirely wrong about him. He could be a bit of an arrogant snot. However, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of admitting that she was getting on his nerves. Instead, he offered her one of his practised, vague smiles; the kind he usually employed when a patient told him something mildly interesting.

"Thank you," He reached for the purse and habitually looked out a sickle coin. He'd normally have asked the waiter to keep the change, but this was Decker. Odhrán put the coin to the side and started to count the amount out in knuts. Did he even have enough? Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Oh, and there was one more.

He pushed the pile of coins towards Oriana.  "There yer go, me luv. Buy yorself sumfink nice. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna."

Why was it so much fun to make fun of Decker's accent?

He tried to focus his attention on Deitha again. He had a drink, he had paid, Oriana was hopefully leaving. None of this had to ruin their evening together. They could still celebrate and have fun.

[Oriana Decker]

Of all the bloody cheek! She'd been determined not to let O'Doilly under her skin but he seemed determined to try. Counting out the price of his drink in individual knuts when he had a perfectly good sickle? And just to rub it in, adding a poor lonely knut as a tip 'to buy something nice'? Like a piano? Spoilt posh knob probably didn't know how much one actually cost.

"A joanna? Have ya gone soft an' muggle on me, O'Doilly?" Turning to Deitha, she jerked a thumb in Odhrán's direction. "Daffy, luv, can't you talk some sense into him? You remember how ol' Oriana lays on a proper shindig, and it don't involve no piano."

Truth be told, she had actually thought about having a piano for the Morning Star; Revolution was intended more as a social venue, and the Morning Star as a backstreet boozer ambience where a piano in the corner might encourage a good old singalong or two. She hated the idea that she and Odhrán might have agreed on something, even by accident.

"Well, if that'll be all, I have other firsty customers, so if you'll excuse me."

But there was a limit to how much banter she could muster on her feet for Odhrán. All that upbringing and fancy start to life did have a few perks, and she had to concede this round might be a draw even with home field advantage. There'd be a next time, though. She'd see to it.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha just sat and slowly sipped her rum and black. Watching these two bicker and squabble - especially with Odhrán's frankly hilarious attempts to get his Irish brogue around the rougher London accent. Oriana kinda had it coming, really. The trick was not laughing, watching Odhrán count out the change just to make sure he didn't give out too much by way of a tip - and the suggestion for it to go on a piano was a nice touch.

Wait a minute. Daffy? Daffy?! Deitha sat keeping her expression composed. Oriana would pay for that. That was a nickname from when they'd been... ahem. And was private. She had assumed that by the disintegration of whatever their situation was called that any and all rights to use a pet name had simply evaporated faster than whatever passion might have been left. She wasn't sure if Odhrán caught the look, but it seemed that they were kindred spirits with another angle.

She did remember the last time she'd seen Oriana throw a party - and it was pretty well organised. The drinks flowed, the food was pretty reasonable, all in all. Deitha wasn't too sure about her taste in music - some wizarding musical group off the wizarding wireless, with an even worse accent than hers. Actually, come to think of it, that was the last night they'd been anything other than bartender and patron.

As Oriana turned as if to leave, Deitha aimed a sidelong look at her, while muttering a shade louder than necessary just for Odhrán's benefit. "A proper shindig, eh? Better get in your sparygics in. It wouldn't be a proper shindig if there weren't need for food poisoning remedies."

If Oriana had a further comment, though, Deitha didn't hear it.

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

It wasn't quite the victory he'd wanted, but seeing Oriana visibly irritated by his antics sparked some joy for Odhrán. A dark voice in his mind kept insisting to push things further in some way, but there was also another part of him quite uncomfortable with the situation. It was ungentlemanly to make fun of a woman like that, regardless of what she had done to him.

He looked at Oriana with a blank face and watched her take the money. Something about how she moved revived one of his half-memories of 'that night'. They'd traded some insults as usual, but later that night she'd offered him a free drink and an apology for her behaviour. They'd talked for a while. Then the questions started as if Oriana was trying to get a specific piece of  information out of him. Had that been out of her own initiative or had someone paid her? He didn't know.

Odhrán cleared his mind and tried to shift his arcane focus on Oriana. The thought had to be in her mind. He tried to reach for it when Oriana averted her gaze and turned to Deitha. His thin thread of occlumency snapped before he could accomplish anything.

Daffy? Oh, now this was getting interesting. Odhrán had gathered as much as that Deitha wasn't fond of Oriana either, but this nickname implied more of a history than she'd admitted to so far. Somehow he couldn't imagine that many people got to call Deitha by a nickname and got away with it. A past friendship? Perhaps, even more than that? How awkward. Him and Deitha really were birds of a feather in the most unexpected and uncomfortable of ways.

As Oriana left he heaved a sigh and looked at his friend with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. "Really Deitha, Miss Decker? And here I thought you were smarter than me."

Odhrán picked up his drink and could help but checking it for any unwelcome additions. It seemed to be fine. In retrospect it occurred to him that this drink was somewhat harder to tamper with than his usual red wine. Even a slightly discoloured potion would probably easily show up in a gin and gillywater. Maybe he should make that his standard order if he ever set another foot into one of Miss Decker's establishments.

[Deitha Albron]

Having gotten her one under-her-breath parting shot in, Deitha watched Oriana walk away with cold, hard eyes. Other people thought about what would happen 'if looks could kill', but Deitha's look was much more... 'if looks could permanently maim'. It'd last longer.

That dratted woman was finally gone and she and Odhrán could actually enjoy their evening at last.

She sipped at her rum and black, watching his facial expression change, and wondered exactly was going through that mind of his. Perhaps what exactly he was trying to very hard to remember - or possibly to forget - if that's what it was. It had that bearing to it.

The blush that flushed up through her cheeks was utterly uncontrollable as Odhrán gently chided her over past times. "It's not like th-- Oriana and I... it's complicated!" The exclamation was definitely punctuated with a huff.

Putting her drink down, she crossed and then uncrossed her arms, before crossing them again in a sort of humph motion, unsure of how to position, well, any of her limbs in a useful way.

"She wasn't always a battle-axe." An arm loosened slightly from where they were crossed. Perhaps saying it might clear the air just a little. "It was before she acquired Revolution."

Deitha fiddled with the stirring stick in her drink, staring off into the middle distance. "She was... different then. I mean," She lowered her voice just so Odhrán could hear. "She's always been the village bicycle, you know?"

There was a moment of hoping Odhrán would get the reference, but the pause hung in the air just a little too long and she finished the thought anyway. "Everyone got a ride."

A polite cough and she brought her voice back to normal speaking volume. "Ori was... carefree. Rebelling against her parents, against society in a way. Everyone was so buttoned up, London was just rebuilding after the muggle war. And she was just one of those easy people you could talk to and you'd feel better. Or at least you wouldn't mind feeling so bad."

More fiddling with the stirring stick. "We weren't good for each other, like oil and water, me and her. I was young and stupid - she was more worldly wise. I learned a few things about what it meant to be human, I suppose. And, in a way... no, it wasn't love. Maybe it was just teenage infatuation a bit late."

She downed a big gulp from her glass. "But if she calls me Daffy again, I swear to Merlin I will end her."

Suddenly mindful of where she was, her vision focused back on something in the here and now - on Odhrán's drink, as if nothing had happened and this was all perfectly normal. "How's the drink?"

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

"Not spiked or poisoned," he replied dryly. It really was the best he could say about it. He'd had both better gin and better gillywater at other establishments. Now that he thought about it, there was something off about the flavour, something missing. "It's drinkable." He shrugged. "A few more and the taste might grow on me." Whatever was wrong with his drink, it was still preferable to beer.

In his mind, he mulled over Deitha's story about Oriana. "You do know you don't need to justify yourself to me. Ever." He didn't want her to feel like she had done something he disapproved of. He'd been surprised, but if anyone understood the allure of Oriana it was him. He'd once liked her well enough himself. "She can be quite compelling," he said simply. "And I am sure it helped that she was, well, still is, a very attractive looking woman." It seemed to pain him to admit as much, but that didn't make it any less true.

"Revolution was a bit of a lifeline for me when I opened Meridian," he confessed to her quietly. "I wasn't in a good place back then. Just lonely, stressed and homesick for France and Switzerland. She was already married to that guy, but things happened anyway. I wouldn't say it was serious, I certainly wasn't in a position to even consider that, but it was something. I suppose she was hoping for me to save her from her life, alas I turned out to be quite the disappointment in that department."

Yes, he'd probably hurt her, though it had been most unintentionally done. "I thought she understood things couldn't possibly go anywhere. It's been awkward ever since and than there's the matter of her family and that she didn't tell me." Odhrán sighed. "Makes it hard to trust anybody when..." Probably better not to talk about that here. He relaxed back in his chair and focused on Deitha. Maybe he could pass her the thought? He'd cast more grandiose spells earlier in the day. He just needed to have a little bit of confidence in himself.

He established a mental link more easily than he would have thought. Either Deitha had seen this coming or he really was on the mend and things weren't quite as bad as he thought. With a light and gentle touch he was tugging on her memories of their joint trip to Azkaban. Legillimency really was like riding a bicycle. Now that he had a link, he almost instinctively knew what to do. A little prod here and a touch there and the memory he was after was liberated, floating to the forefront of Deitha's thoughts.

Fernsby, Rookwood, Audish, Dankworth, Polaris, Winthrop and Spaulding.

[Deitha Albron]

As Odhrán examined his drink, Deitha mulled over how open and honest she'd just been. The history with Ori was... not her proudest moment and strictly by the laws of the land, well, hadn't been entirely legal. One could argue that Ori had led her astray and off the beaten path, but the truth was that Deitha had strayed from the path of the righteous a long time ago, and not of her own doing. There was something about being a conscious law-breaker that was empowering.

There was a tone in Odhrán's voice that reassured her as he mentioned that she didn't need to justify herself to him. And he noted that Oriana could be quite a force in her own way.

"Ori and me... I know I don't need to justify it, but it feels good to be able to tell someone who might understand."

It had occurred to her that Revolution wasn't far from Meridian and that in the early days it must have been quite the refuge when just starting out. Deitha faintly wondered what being a therapist must be like - and who therapists go to when they need to talk. Maybe that was part of the problem with all the ones she'd seen previously, they'd all gone a bit funny because they had no-one themselves to talk to.

The fateful tale of Oriana and Odhrán, though, somehow it didn't surprise her. It hadn't helped her own relationship with the woman in recent times - the husband wasn't good enough in Deitha's estimations, and Odhrán seemed to confirm it, albeit backhandedly.

Deitha hadn't met any of Oriana's family, since whatever had happened during their... fling you could call it... hadn't ever really gotten serious enough to meet the parents. Just as well, really, Deitha shuddered at the idea of bringing Ori home to meet Pyrrhus. She was just about to ask when she noticed Odhrán sitting back in his chair, and wondered where that was going.

There were some things it was easier to show, not tell, she thought and perhaps he was feeling better about trying mind magic after recuperating from the events of the day.

Images of the walls of Azkaban flashed through her mind, the walls, the cells, the people. The wretch she'd been to see. Odhrán's father.

The list of names. Spaulding was on it... she knew she'd regretted dealing with him at all, but if any further reason for her to go visit him were needed, that was it.

The other names, though, didn't seem quite so familiar. She mumbled them to herself, trying to put faces to the names. But one of them nagged.

Polaris? She thought. Oriana Polaris? The image of Oriana flickered quite brightly in Deitha's mind as if to say 'yes, this one?'

She took a long sip of her drink. "I can see why you might have wanted to avoid Revolution. I didn't catch everything the first time, I was a bit busy. But it explains a few things."

She outlined in a hushed tone that she'd been given a name by the inmate that would ultimately lead back to Spaulding - and that she confronted him about it. She half-laughed, grimly. "Honestly, the man's a maggot and I think he thinks he's attractive. He was trying to flirt with me."

Swirling the stick in her drink to mingle the dregs, she stared into it intently. "They all need to go."

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

He could feel as Deitha was starting to comprehend. The image of Oriana was forming in her thoughts and Odhrán softly pushed it aside, replacing her likeness with that of Basilton Polaris, Oriana's father. It certainly had started with that man, though he suspected Oriana had little compunctions about selling him out. Their recent encounter at Revolution could certainly be counted as an attempt to do something.

Deitha meanwhile was quick to move on to Spaulding. Interesting. Odhrán knew little more than the name, but Deitha seemed to be familiar.

"You know him?" Odhrán suddenly sat a little straighter and watched her with renewed interest. The name of Spaulding had mystified him for weeks. His father had mentioned him, but Odhrán had no idea how he fit into anything. Fernsby, Audish, Dankworth, Polaris Sr he'd all met in person. Winthrop and Rookwood he was trying to keep an eye on, but Spaulding was a mystery to him. His father had only given the name, but no explanation of how Spaulding was involved in anything.

"Disgusting," he commented as Deitha mentioned the man making unwanted advances. "I hope you didn't let him get away with anything." The idea of anybody touched Deitha made him deeply uncomfortable. She'd been through enough in her life and the things he had caught glimpses of in her mind were enough to make the sanest witch go mad.

"But if you don't mind me asking, how is Spaulding connected to you? Or is that something we'd be better off discussing somewhere more private?"

Their idea to just have a drink and enjoy themselves didn't seem to be working out well. They conversation kept brushing on topics that were sensitive and probably better to discuss where they couldn't be overheard. Should they be heading back to the clinic? It seemed a little impersonal, but certainly better than a space where Decker could potentially listen in on what they wanted to talk about.

"I'm sorry, I just don't trust Oriana. Not after what happened last time."

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha reflected for a moment on the memories that were gently flowing in and out of her mind. Daddy Dearest Polaris. That was how Ori had referred to him on occasion, and it hadn't been out of sincere love for her paternal relative.

She'd definitely been given hints that a lot of Ori's hard-as-nails exterior was in defence - rebellion - against her parents' wishes and aspirations. There is no doubt that Revolution was not Daddy Dearest's fondest wish in life for Ori to have achieved. Deitha wondered momentarily if any of the time they'd spent together had been real, or just a way of sticking two fingers up at Daddy Dearest. She considered that she'd had fun along the way and if that was what it was, so be it.

There was a sigh in the air. She had wanted to go out, celebrate, unwind a little. Maybe see if Odhrán had more of a sense of humour when he'd had a drink - not that she minded his general attitude, it was simple, honest and refreshing, but she did wonder if he knew how to let himself go just a little. Maybe it was something they taught in legilimens class as a way of keeping control.

"Eh, Spaulding can wait. We can talk shop tomorrow, somewhere else. And that one... that's purely business. Tonight, we should try to relax, we had a hard day's work, we did a good job, it's time we let our hair down." As if to punctuate the statement, she tugged at the clips holding her hair in its place, not quite the usual pigtails, but a pair of braids - to be all presentable - and just let her hair down, quite literally, and shook it able to loosen it up. It felt good not having the clips pulling a little awkwardly.

"There we go, that's better. And no," she paused, "trust is earned - and we've both been burned in that particular direction." She thought about making some crack about not trusting Ori as far as she could throw her, but she remembered one sort-of wrestling incident where Ori had ended up making a person-shaped-outline of an indentation in a wall. Curiously it hadn't slowed her down, if anything it had encouraged her.

"I think we should get another drink in, and just relax. We can always find somewhere else if you like - on condition that they serve alcohol and ideally some of those cheesy wotsits, they're really good."

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

Apparently they agreed on Oriana. It was hard to rebuild trust after a bad experience. Odhrán wasn't quite sure he would ever get there, even if he had to admit that he didn't outright hate Oriana. There was a part of him who still thought of her as pretty and somewhat of a victim of circumstance. Still, she'd taken advantage of him and that he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

Meanwhile Deitha was trying to salvage what was left of their evening. She clearly was in the mood to let her hair down as she called it. Odhrán watched as she undid her braids and got rid of the hair clips. He wouldn't dare tell her, but he thought she looked rather prettier that way. Less childlike and more like a confident young woman.

Why did she have to keep talking about relaxing. It wasn't like that was something he could do on command. Did Deitha not know that he somewhat struggled with the popular concept of downtime? He didn't think about it a lot, but every once in a while he really felt that the class he'd been born into was so removed from general wizarding society he might as well be an alien. He couldn't help a little smirk while trying to picture Deitha at one of the ritzy venues he'd liked to hang out at in Paris during his younger years or what she'd make of his idea of a quiet night in, complete with chamber music and expensive red wine. There were some differences between them that felt quite fundamental, though not insurmountable.

"I suppose," Odhrán started with a boyish little grin, "we could go to Revolution. Seeing how Ori is busy here, we should have peace and quiet there." It was a stupid idea. He knew as soon as he'd said the words out loud. He wasn't sure he was any more likely to relax there than he was here, but there was a possibility that somebody would serve him a drinkable gin and tonic, with a slice of lime or lemon. And maybe that would put him into more celebratory spirits.

"I don't know if they have any wotsits though."

[Deitha Albron]

This wasn't quite going to plan, was it? It was all supposed to be a quiet drink, blow off a little steam, celebrate a good day's work, as it were, but they were both pretty tense still. Being in the vicinity of Oriana wasn't going to do either of them any good.

She did begin to wonder if she'd slightly misjudged Odhrán on the nature of having fun - it hadn't exactly occurred to her that her idea of fun and relaxing might not be entirely in line with his... come to think of it, he was a lot more the buttoned-up sort. But she'd figured a drink would loosen him up and let off a little steam.

But then, unexpectedly he smiled, and suggested they decamped to Revolution. It did have merit, as he pointed out - Ori wouln't be troubling them. Another rum and black sounded good - and there'd be no trouble getting something Odhrán might actually want to drink, without any of the grandstanding.

That dry sense of humour of his was still working, though, when he noted that he wasn't sure about the cheesy wotsits, and Deitha had nothing but a giggle for an answer. She hadn't quite imagined Odhrán actually saying the word in his Irish brogue.

"Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Even if they don't have any cheesy wotsits!"

There was the small matter of Odhrán finishing his drink, then they could take a stroll - or apparate - across town. It was a week night, Revolution shouldn't be too busy... though it was the Wizarding World Cup season, so if there was a game on...? There wasn't a wireless at The Morning Star and none of the other patrons looked like they were particularly interested in the World Cup, perhaps even choosing the venue for that very reason.

She had a sudden reservation about Revolution, but... whatever... gotta go with the flow.

"Whenever you're ready, we'll make a move. I can even apparate us across town if you don't fancy the walk?"

[Odhrán Ó Dálaigh]

Deitha started giggling and he gave her a warm smile. As stupid as his idea had been, she seemed willing to go along with it. It was a rare occasion for Odhrán to allow himself to be whimsical and silly, but it seemed as if Deitha was trying to draw forth exactly that aspect of him. Well, if she was determined to see him let go of his inhibitions, he would try. Getting out of Oriana's hair was a good first step.

"Apparate us?" He was a little surprised by the offer. Revolution wasn't far and they could certainly make it on foot. However, he reminded himself that he was trying to not to bring down the mood and energy. "Well, why not," he agreed with her. "But let me finish this terrible drink first." He picked up his glass and hosed down the remainder of his beverage. Next time they were doing a night out he would take her somewhere nice. Inis Cú came to mind as an obvious option. Try as he might, he just couldn't bring himself to like London.

Drink emptied he stood up and and held his hand out to Deitha. "Well, then why don't you whisk me away to wherever you choose, my dearest." He was speaking a little louder than necessary, and though he couldn't see it with his back turned to the bar, he was sure that Oriana was watching the two of them. She'd seemed intrigued to find them together earlier on and Odhrán wasn't above putting on a bit of a show just to mess with her head. He still felt spiteful about that last half-remembered encounter he'd had with Oriana.

He focused his attention on Deitha, waiting he for her to whisk them away. As she stepped closer to him he couldn't resist the temptation to pull her into a loose hug. He let out a little laugh. Apparently, he was rather better at acting a little tipsy than he'd given himself credit for. Though Deitha hasn't said anything yet, he nodded. "Really? Oh, I think that's a delightful idea. I wouldn't mind that." His tone dropped a little lower, as if she'd just suggested something quite outrageous to him.

Alright. That had to be enough. Hopefully Deitha would be getting them out of here shortly. He wasn't convinced his acting would stand up to scrutiny on closer inspection.