An alliance was a laughable concept, especially to him, ashen lips twisting into an uncertain smirk as he huffed out, "Are ya serious?" Holding back an outburst of nervous giggles until it felt like his only good lung might explode, he finally took the time to scan Bastille's face for any emotion or sings that this was all just a cruel joke -- please let it be a joke. His panicked smile shakily faltered into a numb expression, lantern-like glare drifting down to stare at the other's paws. It was much more interesting to watch him slowly sink into the squishy mud than consider for a moment the idea of working with him. He knew he wasn't fit to be a leader, much less a negotiator. Beck relapsed into silence only broken by a shuttering cough from him, furiously gnawing on his unscathed cheek to force himself to think. How could Bastille be trusted not to use an alliance to backstab them? Would his clan ever help them if they were in need? What was he supposed to do?

    Use this.

    Venomous words filling his skull, the mangy feline collected himself the best he could, a distant film dulling his eyes as he reared his head and tilted his chin up to appear taller before the other leader, devoid of all personality as he coldly droned, "I'd be interested, if ya hadn't already..." A slight sense of shame returned to the boy, blinking back at his peers watching before leaning in closer to Bastille so only he could hear, stretching on his tiptoes to reach. Freezing and waterlogged breath close to tickling his ear, a ghastly death rattle plain in his words when heard from so close, Beck concluded with a sneering hiss that was meant for only the seraph, "If ya hadn't decided to take out your silly anger on us, then maybe we would be interested in your pathetic deal. What would Starry think of ya now?" Manipulation was easy when he had another to guide him along, an echo of two voices speaking subtly hidden between his rasps. Recoiling back like a snake after striking, the poltergeist stood motionless and oddly stiff as he seemed to wait for instructions, a puppet slack on its strings. Jerking back to attention with a click of enamel as his jaw snapped into an unfazed grin, Beck resumed speaking, returning to a normal volume for all to over hear. "But, there is always somethin' ya can do to change my mind; we -- I wanna make a deal." He knew Bastille would take the bait and lead himself right into his snare, allowing him to not only slip away with supplies for his clan, but revenge as well. Always a demon of vindictive nature, it felt good to have a purpose again, even if for a little bit.