Of course. It makes a kind of sense. It's all blackmail, in the end, but it only stands to reason that the kind of people Ginsberg works with would never let something as petty as their prejudice get in the way of opportunities to make money. Integrity, even to their own fucked-up prejudices, was always going to take a second seat to profit.

Ned doesn't bother to hide the disgust on his face; if anyone tried to pull something like that on Ginsberg, well... he doesn't know what he would do. But there is a feeling in his chest like a hot coal when he even thinks about it. Ned doesn't like to dwell on his own anger, on the potential for rage and callousness and violence in him. But it's there. He swallows, manages a smile just as weak as Ginsberg's.

"Does anybody know about... about him?" Ned feels uneasy with what he's suggesting, but he goes on, "I mean... if it comes down to it there's always. Finding a way to discredit him, before he can say anything about you." He rubs a hand against the back of his neck, taking a step away from Ginsberg. He hates himself a bit for saying it, adds knowingly, "It might not exactly be the moral high ground, but sometimes the moral high ground's a luxury you just can't afford."