[Till childishly props his chin up against his hands, fingers curled against his squished cheeks, and elbows on the table, posture curled in a bend. Till ignores James's sympathetic offering, mostly because he just...doesn't know how to respond to it, so he lets it be.]

Yeah...

Some human with hairs on his face told me that the whole purpose of this was to measure our temperaments and stuff... which I guess weighs into whether or not we save our home universes. Or something.

I feel like they probably want our obedience for something else, though...

[Till's distrusting gut tells him that the universes they're taken from might be sort of a collateral damage and red herring at the same time. but it's not by any feat of intellect—really juse a baseless gut instinct. either way, Till is intolerably fed up with this continued lack of agency. he died, for fuck's sake!]