[ his mouth twists petulantly at the question. that the fool should ask! "trust;" what a dull concept. trust is easily lost, bonds broken. piter will not tie himself to a being that he cannot control. but he cannot quite grasp how to phrase this all elusively, mind addled as it is at the moment-- and somehow, he doubts that saying any of it would benefit him. ]
You are owed no explanation. [ calmness flickers back over his face, the mentat-mask creeping back up over him unbidden, instinctively, as he stares back. ] A more pertinent question: Why should Piter trust you?
[ he doesn't realize that he's done it, but that third person tic has slipped out of him; in fact, he rarely realizes when it happens, for he is always somewhere subtly outside himself, removed from the conversation. a small, faraway chuckle slips out of him, but there is no smile on his lips or in his eyes. ]