['Only curiosity, my ass.' This isn't a man to waste time with innocent inquiries. Every fucking thing--Phil would be willing to bet that every fucking thing this guy does or says is geared toward some specific end. He knows what he wants, and Phil suspects that he himself knows what Javert knows that he wants.

Shit, that's getting convoluted.

In any case, Phil doesn't trust this sudden remission, and the accompanying generosity is probably another tactic (hell, Javert could even be trying to get him drunk, though it'd be a stupid ploy, and Phil doesn't really believe it's what's going on). The guy's really intense, psychotic, or maybe a mix of both. Not the kind of guy to relax around. Not really the kind of guy to have a drink with, either.

So there's a choice to make, now. A choice between playing nice and at least feigning to go along with Javert's game, or getting the fuck out before the man can throw any more inquiries his way. The first option doesn't much appeal; Phil doesn't feel particularly patient right now, and what the fuck're they going to talk about, anyway? If he chooses the second, Javert's liable to take it as a sign of guilt, throwing it onto the stockpile of whatever imaginary evidence he's collected.

...goddamnit. He'd better play it safe. Hell, maybe he'll take something useful from this, eh, prolonged encounter. Probably not, but in unpleasant situations, it's better to hold onto some sort of hope.]

Sounds fantastic, pal.

["A colleague." Right. As if this guy knows how to be a colleague with anyone. Not that Phil really knows, either. Or cares. Colleagues are stuffy, the kind of rod-up-their-ass bastards that've never ventured outside of their elite clubhouses. What the hell would he want to be a colleague for?]

So how about you? Now that you've poked around my business, you want to say something about yourself?