"Mostly I've just gotten caught up in whatever was happening to the other person. I have found it's much easier to ease someone else's trouble here than to prevent it entirely," he considers the trajectory of this conversation, both the questions asked and absent from the asking, "I may be the wrong person to have this conversation with. It's not that I'm not suitably discomforted with the things that happen here, but I was created to torture the wicked for all eternity. This place has disgusted me because of how it doesn't care about judgement, how it punishes indiscriminately for imagined crimes, how the goalposts for what constitutes 'crime' change at the whim of masters none of us understand. All of this?" he gestures behind Quentin at the rest of the expo, "It seems like children playing inexpertly with things they do not fully understand, to me."

Ereuvir's lips curl and a certain amount of fondness enters his tone,

"Free will, in the sense of being able to utterly choose one's own destiny and sail wherever you will, is a human concept. I make choices, of course, but in the long term, I cannot choose what I am or what I was made to do. Why should it bother me to be branded so here? I understand why it is disturbing to others, conceptually, but for me," he makes another one of those open handed shrugs, "It hardly matters. Besides..." there's something even warmer in his tone, suddenly, softer, the tone of a man not just in love but utterly besotted, "my contracted partner is someone I never would have met under other circumstances. I haven't always loved her, but she's always been easy to kneel for, when the city demands it."