That actor who looks a bit like Jonathan is on TV again, talking about playing baddies. "People seldom cast themselves as the villain," he says. "They think of themselves as the flawed hero in their own story."
Art wouldn't mind a heavy session in the dungeon with that one. Soon stop him talking. But he's right about the psychology of it.
It's pretty clear Mission Man thinks Art's the villain of the piece, twirling his imaginary moustaches like something out of Victorian melodrama.
To the woods!
No, no, I'll tell the vicar!
To the woods - I *am* the vicar!
Sexual hypocrites in the church, nothing new there. Growing up, he'd had enough grief from Christian homophobes to last a lifetime. He could hardly believe his luck when they saw the Save-A-Soul mission band in Trafalgar Square, right on cue for him to make the bet with Jonathan.
It should have been perfect, either way. If Jonathan failed, he'd have the pleasure of watching him sweat over the task and squirm at the client meeting with Empire. Almost better than the free PR.
And there was always a chance he'd win; J's the kind of man you'd break your rules for. It had taken all of Art's self-control not to break his own rules, after the first time, even though he knew it'd be a disaster. He had to set a test hard enough to justify rewarding J if he passed it, make him earn another night in the dungeon.
This wasn't how things were supposed to turn out at all. Mission Man should be hating himself for giving in, but as far as Art can see - and he's not getting that much of a chance to observe - he's taken to being gay like a duck to water, or like a drake to other drakes. Just Art's bad luck to pick a closet case waiting to break out.
After he sees the pair of them at the club together, he realizes it's worse than he thought: Grant doesn't see him as the villain of the piece, but as the defeated rival.