[ He jerks slightly, at the mention of a lot of time underground. His fingers curl, gripping at the edge of the cot; not enough for knuckles to whiten, but enough to dig in, hurt a little.

He can hear it in her tone, the way she chooses her words, that this is all coming from a place of sincerity. He'd never, ever be able to replicate it; that he's met someone who can be like this is a marvel in and of itself.

But still, being trapped in a dark basement dredges up old memories that were never supposed to be unearthed, have been all too recently. It takes him a moment before he can find words again. He speaks softly when he does. ]

Sometimes, when things changed was the worst part.

[ Other people came in. And. He was so much smaller back then.

The notion of waking up free and losing it is incredible, though. He might want to hold on to that.

He looks down at a spot on the floor between them, eyes unseeing. He does not have the language for this. That's started to get more frustrating. ]

I just... never wanted to be in this place again. It's been my world before. I didn't like it.

[ Not this place, specifically, but one too similar to it that's made it a little more difficult to get through it.

He jerks his head back up at her mention of the sun. ]

It can be fine, without the sun. You go far enough out into the outer planets, it's just a dot of light among trillions. I chose to be there, though. Not here.

[ He takes in her silence, wondering what's going through her head. He knew someone who spoke similarly, once. Thinks it's important, to have people like this. So he'll keep listening.

He recognizes a long forgotten home in her words; one he left behind decades ago, but wasn't all terrible, in hindsight. He focuses in on her, her smile, at the notion, the beginnings of gratitude starting to curl in at his edges. ]

That could work.