[ he pauses, shifting to curl his hands over the arms of the chair, drumming the fingers of one with a muffled click against the metal. it's.. strange, speaking to someone else about this, truthfully. after all, the foundation already knows why he stays with them so willingly, and he doesn't talk to those outside.

but.. what does it hurt to tell him? ] You have to alter your perspective. [ that's possibly not very helpful. ] That is, look at me. [ he gestures to the mark on his brow, then shifts to strip off one of his gloves, spreading the delicately-made, strange metal fingers. ] .. I stand out even in remote places, and as humanity advances, it becomes harder and harder to hide. [ he pulls the glove back on. ] Particularly given the stipulations of my curse. I don't enjoy salting the earth everywhere I go.

[ he rolls a shoulder in a small shrug. ] The Foundation has given me a.. home, I suppose you could say. Work. People that know what I am and who I am. [ his glance slips away from jon, mouth flattening faintly. ] .. It's a blessing to have those things, even if they're short-lived. A hundred years, two.. a thousand. Ten-thousand. It's still-- no matter how long the Foundation lasts, it will fall eventually, and so will civilization, and the cycle will begin again.