“I’m not afraid of you,” Bart said. Well maybe a little. “I’m not… I’m not trying to mess with you. My father likes you. He likes you a lot. I want you to tell me about your crimes.” Bart wanted his father to look at him the same proud way that he looked at John.
John found this sudden shift from subtle hostility to admiration to be extremely questionable. “Is that right?” No one in this place could be taken for their word, as even if there was some truth to it, there was usually some deceptive intention as well. It could have been that Bart wanted to pull a confession out of John to use against him, something the detective refused to allow. “What makes you think I would trust you enough to tell you? I sure as hell don’t trust your father.” Not anymore.
Bart was prone to 'temper tantrums' at times and sometimes his mood changed quickly. "What do you think I'm going to do with the details of your crimes except learn from them?" Bart questioned him. "Do you want me to share about the people I killed first? Would that make you feel better?" There was a slight edge of annoyance in his tone that he couldn't hide. He couldn't believe that John was actually accusing him of having other intentions here. He wasn't sure how to convince him. He was desperate for his father to be proud of him and John was his key to success. "What do you want from me? Tell me what you want from me and I'll do it." He knew John would want something out of this deal too. "I need to learn from your crimes so that I can improve. I want to impress my father the way you have." Admitting this made him sound like a vulnerable little boy and he hated it.
