Martin had to watch Bariyan's expression for a while to find his bearing, somehow guess at what his explanation was even doing for him. He was nervous – almost giddily so – and the feeling kept him teetering in a confusing tightrope walk between fear and excitement, a hope for...for what? For some light to click? For the Bariyan who recognized him, cared for him to suddenly be there, just as alive? As though talking about himself as Darkov was enough to reverse whatever circumstance caused this change.

A boy's imagination, perhaps.

It was the question that rattled that imagined end. No revelation, just one more question and one more flutter in Martin's stomach. He couldn't read Bariyan's expression well enough anymore – it was too animated, too influenced by things the boy had little claim to or...or none, if it were all from that other world.

"It was," he said, a little weakly. It was a tone he quickly corrected, speaking up, insistent, earnest. "It was the best thing. I'm here because of it."

He couldn't stop himself from reaching, grabbing at Bariyan's arm to stop him, no longer minding a stranger's manners.

"You gave me a whole new life," he said, his mouth breaking into a smile, quickly twitching with a shade of fear when he realized he had overstepped. He let go, holding his breath, feeling his face heat up.

"But please don't...Don't think you owe me anything! It's the other way around...Did I say so before?" He was faintly certain he did. "I promised..."