His brow twitches a bit when Ivar insults him, but he isn't going to fight it. It's all true and even if he hadn't already believed it, he's been hearing it from everyone.

"I just want people to hurt me, huh?"

He shifts again until their bodies are pressed together, so he can run his hand under Ivar's shirt and trace random patterns with his unnaturally warm fingers. It's been months, and it still feels odd to be so close when he can remember traces of an old, old rivalry.

"I want to be better. I don't want to hurt people. But it's..." He stumbles over his words, "...It's easy. It's good in the moment. Fuck, I feel high when I've got blood in my mouth." A pause. "I sold one of my friends out so I could get forgiveness from someone else. It was so fucking easy, I didn't even think about it until..."

Until he saw Hector's face. Not the reaction to the kill, but the resolve when he left.

Dodger can't think of anything else to say so he just sinks into the mattress, his brow knitted with turmoil.