[His brows furrow as he's hit with some inconvenient idea for the second time - Mother, doing something like that. Metaphorical clicking and whirring as an outdated OS tries to process.]
[Then, a lightbulb.]
[And he grins even wider.]
Really. You know, I can't help but notice that doesn't sound a thing like the Mother I know. That thing that looked like me that you saw, that wasn't me, was it. Couldn't have been. Here I am, after all. That was the thing put in my place while I came here. That's why it died. The Cain you saw, that may or may not have been Cain. Probably not. Because here he is, right?