[The answer is about what he expects. He pushes the tome off of his lap with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. It creaks ominously under the shift, which certainly suits the mood. The only thing to make the air even sweeter is if the bloody thing collapses underneath him. Perhaps it's cursed against Suns.

He can't say what makes it come to his mind. Well, it may not be that strange. That the Horizon has tempered him in some way. Do you think it's foolish? Sam's cool, easy voice. The simplicity of the question. It had not been a judgement, either way.]

Call me an idiot, then. You always do. I choose not to believe that way, whether it's true or not. [His bird chirped, hopping down to land on his head, pecking at bits of his hair and tugging at them. It, predictably, was true. It was only... it was Destiny, and why would Destiny have brought them together if only to rend them apart in the stupidest way possible? One has to believe in something. Why not the same force he believes brought them here together?

He flicks his fingers, crafting a second bird. Ah. All that time training, and look what he can do now. Nothing, in particular, helpful.

Oh, gods. Did the Horizon somehow make an optimist of him?] Well, my threatening friend, did you come up with anything? You're still a prisoner, and my pleas are not making a difference. And now Ambrose has confirmed that which was only a hypothesis before. Who's to say he won't make the rest of us prisoners soon enough?

[Nope. Not fully an optimist.]