I told you that I was cursed, [ he says, unable to stop himself once more, although he recognizes the startled fear in the other man and doesn't hold his loss of control against him for it. not this time.

he breathes in through his nose, curling his gloved knuckles against the top of the desk and tapping once in thought. and although he doesn't owe this man anything more, he.. understands the hunger. there are similar beings within the foundation, like cain himself. contained, because otherwise they cause havoc-- doubtless the archivist has caused his fair share of it.

after a moment more, he takes pity on him, voice gentle despite the lingering disappointment. it's not entirely the young man's fault, after all. ] I can't be damaged, and I suppose the curse-- [ a gentle tap of his other hand to the mark carved into his brow. ] --interpreted your abilities as an attack on my person. The curse reflects them back on the attacker. I still feel the damage, though. [ he was meant to suffer, after all.

he considers, briefly, taking his jacket and leaving. he made promises, after all, and it's clear that he can't be certain the archivist won't attempt to use his abilities again. but.. instead, he sighs and sinks down into the chair once more. ] .. Give it a few moments, the effect will fade. [ a pause, a slight tilt of his chin. ] I'd like to ask about your patron, but not while you're obligated to answer.