For better or for worse, Tesla doesn't know the finer details of Helen's association with Caleb. That she had working with the man, yes. That it had quite probably been a terrible idea, also yes, if only in retrospect. But the details of what she'd said to whom are things that not even he can tell.
(He wouldn't even if he could, but for all his failings he's never cared for the idea of getting into someone's head like that - and to be perfectly honest, he knows Helen well enough to not need to.)
On the other hand, he notices the way his accusations don't quite have the effect he'd intended. Oh, there's anger there, yes, but not like what he wants. In fact, she is - so far - doing better at making him angry than he is in reverse and that is something that he quite simply can't stand. There needs to be catharsis not just on his end but hers too and if that comes at the end of a protracted shouting match it's not like it's the first time.
Or the last time, for that matter.
He's not even sure what he's the most angry about, to be honest. That he is angry, yes, that much is easy. But he's not sure if it's the perceived loss that would have come with being the last of the Five, that she's slighted him (in his opinion) by not letting him help when he'd done similarly, or that she either didn't think about the fallout or simply figured that the projected fallout would be worth it.
(And in the case of that latter, he's not sure which is the better of the two outcomes; rather than try to decide either way, he unconsciously follows her example and channels the uncertainty into his ongoing anger, for the sake of not having to think about it.)
"No," he answers, voice sharp as the claws he keeps hidden away most of the time. "No, I don't think that's right. You just don't want to regret it, because it means that you aren't as in control as you want. Because it means you're fallible; that you can make mistakes, or misjudge a situation. But of course the great Helen Magnus can't admit to that, much less to the idea that maybe - just maybe - there's more to life than power and control."
...Says the man who has genuinely attempted to take over the world and had been distinctly less than pleased at someone else taking over one of said plans.
He doesn't stop though. Instead, he barrels right along, riding the tide of his anger.
"And as for your uncommonly stubborn and hirsute friend, of course you didn't tell him. He's dead; you couldn't have even if you'd wanted to."
no subject
(He wouldn't even if he could, but for all his failings he's never cared for the idea of getting into someone's head like that - and to be perfectly honest, he knows Helen well enough to not need to.)
On the other hand, he notices the way his accusations don't quite have the effect he'd intended. Oh, there's anger there, yes, but not like what he wants. In fact, she is - so far - doing better at making him angry than he is in reverse and that is something that he quite simply can't stand. There needs to be catharsis not just on his end but hers too and if that comes at the end of a protracted shouting match it's not like it's the first time.
Or the last time, for that matter.
He's not even sure what he's the most angry about, to be honest. That he is angry, yes, that much is easy. But he's not sure if it's the perceived loss that would have come with being the last of the Five, that she's slighted him (in his opinion) by not letting him help when he'd done similarly, or that she either didn't think about the fallout or simply figured that the projected fallout would be worth it.
(And in the case of that latter, he's not sure which is the better of the two outcomes; rather than try to decide either way, he unconsciously follows her example and channels the uncertainty into his ongoing anger, for the sake of not having to think about it.)
"No," he answers, voice sharp as the claws he keeps hidden away most of the time. "No, I don't think that's right. You just don't want to regret it, because it means that you aren't as in control as you want. Because it means you're fallible; that you can make mistakes, or misjudge a situation. But of course the great Helen Magnus can't admit to that, much less to the idea that maybe - just maybe - there's more to life than power and control."
...Says the man who has genuinely attempted to take over the world and had been distinctly less than pleased at someone else taking over one of said plans.
He doesn't stop though. Instead, he barrels right along, riding the tide of his anger.
"And as for your uncommonly stubborn and hirsute friend, of course you didn't tell him. He's dead; you couldn't have even if you'd wanted to."