He snorts. "As I said to the girl, you sound like a house warden except with even less power. Keep an eye on me? What is there I might do in such a place as this? You cannot provide me with the only thing I need. There is no use for you at all that I can see." He doesn't see much reason to be pleasant to anyone but especially not those who claim some sort of 'responsibility' over him.
"Given how often people seem t'turn up dead or things get wrecked, more than you'd think," he points out. And he's trying to be patient and calm, but he's so kriffing frustrated with these temporary pairings, with inmates who have no interest in trying to work with him, or even accepting that he might be willing or able to help them in some way.
"All I need - the only 'right' one has - is to be allowed to vanish into the emptiness of death. But I have been informed that only the Admiral can make that happen."
That... more than takes him aback. He's spent so much of his incredibly short life struggling desperately to survive that the idea of someone simply wanting to die is almost unimaginable to him. "Why do you want to die?"
And that catches him even more off guard, because he knows of plenty of incredibly long-lived species--though he tries not to dwell on the idea, given how brutally short his own life is designed to be--but he's not sure what to make of the idea of multiple lives. "How many have you had?" It's part curiosity, part buying time to think.
He shrugs. "I could not say, indeed, living is not truly the word for what my existence has been down these last centuries. Sixteen generations, perhaps, or more, and if I had the family line written before me perhaps I could list my deaths but it is not a number I can recall easily."
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"What's the one thing you need, anyhow?"
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