It is, isn't it? [ the current version of humanity was still using stone tools in caves the last time he was able to feel sadness for his situation, but he does have to acknowledge that it is, even logically speaking, a terrible fate to have. not that this boy knows that, of course; he's being flippant about oreos.

the hesitation doesn't offend him. he's aware of what he must look like: the strange marking on his brow, his prosthetic limbs, even the collar ringing his throat that he hasn't bothered to remove yet. he still isn't entirely convinced the foundation won't show up to retrieve him. given the priceless information they keep in his head, it's doubtless one of their top priorities if they even know he's missing.

he waits, patient, as the boy--nick--finally takes his hand, returning the shake with a short, friendly squeeze before releasing him. ]

It's a pleasure, Nick. And yes-- [ a glance up through the clear plastic at the rain falling as they walk. ] --I noticed about the clothing. And the.. amorous urges that resulted. I think I'm a bit too old for that sort of desperation.