The way Estinien is staring down at his drink, Amos can't help but wonder what that's like. Things might have ended badly. Or, hell, they might have just ended. But that his companion has some level of fondness for where he came from is just something he'll never be able to comprehend.

He listens, respectfully; lets the silence stretch out a little longer when Estinien has said his piece. Kinda seems like a serious topic for him.

Then, "Yeah, there wasn't really any peace where I'm from." If there were any moments he could have looked back upon fondly, they're buried too deep under everything else. Nothing to look back on, really. Just a wholly broken society.

Amos takes another drink. It's not contemplative or anything; he just wants to. His voice is casual, conversational. It's all in the past. Nothing to be done about it now. "It's cool you got to grow up somewhere like this, even if it wasn't always great. Sorry that it's gone."

Which is a lot more than what he could ever say about where he spent his formative years, and then some.