"It's nice of you to be so concerned about Derby." Underneath the calm Bif was exuding, a rage trembled. He gripped his glass a little more firmly, and tapped his foot under the table more quickly.
"And it's interesting," he continued, "That you believe that this abandonment of which you speak was only one sided." His voice was tight and irritated. It was typical for everyone else to tae the fall for Derby's fuckups, while Derby would often stand back and watch with amusement. He had no doubt this could be such a scenario now, what, if Tad reported back to him with such information.
He sipped his drink again, longing for clarity. Was Derby harping on about being abandoned? That could have suggested that Derby hadn't gotten over him as quickly as it appeared. But... no. Derby was controlled. His responses were well-measured and only dealt out once Derby had predicted their results.
"Has it ever occurred to you," Bif said quietly, "That-- tasteless as this sounds-- you're merely the current amusement for Mr. Harrington? That... give it a few months-- or a few years, if you're lucky and good at keeping him amused-- he'll grow bored of you, Tad-- and you'll be in exactly the same place as I am, being annoyed by his latest stooge during a chance meetup?" He drained his glass and somewhat forcefully put it down on the tabletop.