Already in a raw emotional state, Dumas watched the scene unfold.  He’d never seen White angry before.  Annoyed or exasperated, yes.  Chester usually evoked those emotions in the dj several times each evening.  But never this burning rage.  For the first time, Dumas felt that he shared something in common with his prim and proper associate.  And it wasn’t an entirely comfortable feeling.<br/><br/>Despite a few ambiguous references, the main story could easily be deduced -- a demanding father, a son who wanted to pursue a different passion.  Dumas’s own experience with father/son relationships was limited to a few hazy childhood memories.  But he knew how it felt to be jerked around by people who insisted that they were doing it for the greater good.  He also knew the price of defying those people. It was a price he’d never been willing to pay, not as completely as White was apparently paying it, and Dumas couldn’t help admiring White for having the balls to stand up to his father.<br/><br/>He also felt like a complete ass for giving White such a hard time about his supposedly privileged life.<br/><br/>After Steven Radcliff departed, Dumas waited for the explosion.  He knew Chester well enough to imagine his motives for arranging all this.  He wanted to help White confront a demon from his past -- perhaps he’d even hoped that the father and son would reconcile.  At the same time, he’d also proved to Dumas that his harsh judgement of White was unfair.  All very noble.  But Dumas knew that if Chester had pulled a similar stunt with him, he would have murdered the magician.<br/><br/>White exploded, although not in the way Dumas had expected.  As the dj broke down crying, conflicting emotions squirmed inside Dumas’s heart.  Contempt for such an open display of weakness.  Pity for the suffering of a person who didn’t deserve it.  And jealousy -- not only because White could cry, but because he could do it in Chester’s arms.<br/><br/>“Off,” Dumas whispered, turning that particular screen to black.<br/><br/>Even after being addressed by Chester’s avatar, Dumas kept staring at the dead screen, trying to process what he’d just seen.  White seemed okay with what Chester had done.  He even seemed okay with other people knowing about it.  But Dumas still felt like a peeping tom who’d watched something private, something that didn’t rightfully belong to him.  Finally, he gave a small shake of his head.  “No.  If he tells me at all, he should tell me in person.  He should know who he’s talking to.”<br/><br/>Then something happened that was unprecedented in Wonderland’s history -- at least, since Dumas became its head of security.  He sent a mental command to DEE, wherever it really was, instructing it to come back and keep a proper eye on things.  Then he unplugged his neural interface and left the security office.  Using his extremely detailed knowledge of the club, Dumas didn’t have any trouble finding the place where White’s confrontation with his father had taken place.  However, once he reached it, his confidence faltered.  Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, he looked more like an awkward teenager than a hardened soldier.<br/><br/>“Whi--” Dumas began, and then stopped himself.  “William.  I saw.”  There was no need to implicate Chester in that.  He could have easily stumbled on the scene while doing routine security surveillance.  “I know I shouldn’t have watched, but I did.  I’m sorry.  And I’m sorry I’ve been such a<span style="font-style: italic">dick</span>to you.”  Dumas’s shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug.  “I mean, even more of a dick than I am to pretty much everybody."