He's quiet for a moment. He has another piece of chocolate.

"I'm used to having things to do. Important things. I've been hurt before, I've been imprisoned before." The details are locked up under the scars. They don't matter for what he's trying to explain. "And when I got out or escaped, all I had to focus on was making it through the next day. Finding food, a place to sleep, making sure my people made it through. I don't have that here."

Another piece of chocolate. Another long silence. "I get confused sometimes. I wake up and I don't know where I am--but that makes sense. It just lingers sometimes."