"If I gotta help someone," he reiterates patiently. There's not a lot he gets out of it physically. Only the emotional connection it builds, the pride in being that person's support and not their abuser. He's got plenty of enemies already to help with the latter.

Now that Scott is suddenly less forthcoming, though, Midnighter lets his natural gift of gab take over for him. He sizes him up, head cocking to the left momentarily to listen to the man's pulse jump a little faster. He'll try a little red light, green light with him and hope he hits on some nasty things.

"Now personally, if I didn't know you well—Maybe you pissed me off, stole something from me— I'd choke you out first, take you to a private safehouse where we can get to know each other. You'd wake up naked on your knees, hands behind you pulled high enough that if you weren't careful you'd pop a shoulder out of its socket."

As he talks, he listens hard for signs of stress, arousal, fear, anything he can use for and against Scott.