"You can't know." Viktor is insistent, grip moving up Jayce's arm to his shoulder, as if that's somehow going to shake Jayce out of this tacit acceptance of his own death. They've avoided speaking about it, especially recently, given the urgency to complete the Hexcore, but Viktor hasn't necessarily given up on a desire to go back home. There's too much unfinished--yes, he can improve lives here, but he will never stop dwelling on his failure to help the Undercity. He owes it to his people, to do what he can for them. Just because Jayce has seen a terrible future doesn't mean it's set in stone. They've proved that.

"Just as you can't know that we share the same future."

They already know they aren't the same versions of each other. Mismatched, given the days between them. But it's always been impossible to argue the point that going home would mean losing their memory of this place and the knowledge of his cure. Now that he is cured, it's even harder for him to counter. Would he give that up? Could he trust himself to reach the same conclusion? To complete his research? He likes to think he can, but how can he convince Jayce of that, when he seems to have resigned them both to inevitability?

He has the uncharitable thought that of course Jayce finds this easy to accept. It provides him a convenient excuse to leave his mistakes behind. Can Viktor blame him for seizing that opportunity? Maybe not, but he can't so easily resign himself. His eyebrows furrow in frustration for a moment before he leans over to his beside table, rummaging for a particular notebook which he tosses between them, letting it fall open to a random page. Jayce will be able to figure out what it is with just a glance, he's sure of that.

"I haven't given up on the summoning ritual." It's a confession, though he tries to sound more confident about it than he is. "If I am to make a life here, it will be my choice. Not theirs."