Watching Adam curiously, his gaze flicking to Adam's hand before returning to the other man's face, he's not entirely sure if he should allow himself to respond or let the other man tell his whole tale before interjecting his own thoughts. He's not stupid; he's well aware that he's hearing things that now his other version has lost the opportunity to, to no fault of his own. It's just the way life goes, as miserable as it is. It was true that he wanted his own relief, explanations to questions he's had for months, but he still doesn't feel like the one who should be getting them. That doesn't mean he won't take what he can get.

"I gave myself over pretty easily." This time he does mean that in more ways than one, though he doesn't feel the need to specify that -- he'd be shocked if Adam didn't know what he meant. Jaw snapped shut again, he's back to listening aptly, eyes locked onto Adam's. Primatech feels as if it's been years past, and in a way, it has been. But even then he can still grasp the person he'd been, the way he thought, the raw beginnings of guilt he'd never before been privy to. And Adam came along with all of that, a man he'd fallen for not only as a confidant, but as his own savior to pull him from a situation he believed he'd put himself in. And he'd never truly been able to stop looking at Adam that way, as a stronghold, as his last chance.