"I...yes, and no. That is to say, I have always acknowledged that there is a possibility of death. Nobody is immortal, no matter how they may fight such a thing." His father was in his eighties when the ocean took him, and would have fully lasted for nearly a hundred more if they'd been rescued. Because Paul Torgal had been right in one thing: money truly does make the hierarchy, at least in his sphere of influence. Money bought him conditional immortality, money bought him his enterprise. Money made Bart's creation possible, a lab-conceived child with impeccable smarts and the capability of accepting delicate augments that would further turn him into exactly what his father wanted.

"I was deeply fortunate for the life I had, even with all of its pitfalls. I think, if it came right down to it, my death was merely an inconvenience, but even then, if I left anything material behind, then it would be left to nourish what life was left where my body lay. There's a peace in that idea, to me. When I say that I'm sorry, I mean that... I'm sorry that your circumstances don't allow you to take comfort in the idea of inevitability, and of being able to live in the finite time that we have allotted to us. When cruelty is all that you know, it's all you can really expect, and I don't begrudge you your outlook at all.

"There isn't much that I can offer to help you here but what I already have. I don't do well with relentlessly negativity, but...I don't see that, in what you've told me. Your tenacity reminds me of someone very special. I think..." He pauses, chuckles quietly. "I think the two of you would have loathed one another. Too similar."