[ It's how immediate the response is, more than the response itself, that stuns him. Well, really... it's both. Just that instant, firm conviction that the pathetic ones are--

--are the people who...

You could knock Isaac over with a feather. He's shocked into speechlessness, and for a long moment he doesn't seem to know what to say.

Finally he manages to wrench his gaze away and it meanders off to some far point, his brow settling low and tight. ]

... I don't think they want me dead. But ... they'd probably all be a lot happier if I were gone.

[ Another silence. Then: ]

... thanks. I guess.