Trusted, he thinks, but again doesn't bother.

"...We talk," Elijah points out. "That's more of a relationship than I've had with anyone I haven't personally created in the previous decade."

We talk by common consent, Elijah doesn't say. We talk because I agree to participate. We talk because you're extremely intelligent and in spite of myself, I enjoy it.

"Even if there was any guarantee that my next warden would be someone I would choose, and we both appreciate that there is not - do you really think my better option would be one of two people whose...affection for me might color their judgement?"

"You didn't see that my - trauma - would push me to a point where I would take advantage of you."

He sips his water.

"I can't fault you for that. Until I realized I had an opportunity, I didn't either."

"I don't accept your apology because I cannot accept your culpability," Elijah says crisply. "There is nothing you did that would have made me more likely to respond to the given situations in the way that I had."

"I don't talk to you because you insist on it," he goes on. "If I didn't want to speak to you, I simply wouldn't, regardless of proximity. Over time, Rhys' extroversion would grate on me and Gortys' inability to be actively confrontational would allow me to settle into old patterns without challenge. The availability of bio-cybernetics would always have led me to experiment without regards to the ethics, because I had never approached any experiment from an ethical standpoint."

Elijah blinks slowly. Honestly, this whole experience is...novel. He's never had to consider the consequences of his actions on anything but an abstract, macroscopic level. He could watch the riots and discontent on TV from a hundred miles away, and then turn it off and enjoy the endless silence of his estate. Up against the raw face of Quentin's betrayal, exposed without barriers to his pain and anger, it's...

Unsettling.

He glances at his communicator, his message to Barnes; yes. He's doing that. Call it a lesson in aversion if nothing else.

"Very well."

He rolls his shoulders, feeling an unpleasant stiffness in his spine.

"...I do have a request, if you're willing."

"No. As I told him, I'm willing to do the work and I don't plan on taking advantage, but I would consider your permission to be a favor to him, not to me."

He's built hundreds of cybernetic hands. Could do it in his sleep.

"I understand that your variety of magic has more to do with study and application than any innate talent," he says. "I'd be interested in learning."

"I'm incredibly bored," Elijah says, first off. "And judging from the literature I've found that I believe is from your world, I think I'd be able to develop a reasonable degree of aptitude. Being able to defend myself without weapons would also be useful."

"I'd be happy to work with him, although again I might need some medical support. I assume you've told him that I can't be trusted and will in all likelihood use the opportunity to my own ends."

No sarcasm or accusation, he's just checking.

A small nod.

"That seems ideal. Thank you."