He will accept a wide range of weird, and has done so throughout his life. Still, he's someone who knows what it's like to be isolated, though not extremely. He was picked on and had no friends in junior high. It was lonely, existing right next to what he could be doing, overhearing conversations about karaoke or arcades after school. He threw himself into solitary pursuits instead and eked out his own corner of happiness.

Even now, having gotten past most of that, he can't fully grasp the effect this had on him--the bouts of shyness, floundering in social situations, or giving full rein to the admiration he feels for his friends because he treasures what he has now compared to what he didn't have before. It hasn't been long enough. He hasn't seen enough--though he's seen plenty of the world so far.

It's the old question about cost. Does he aim a trolley at one person to avoid hitting many? He's faced a version of this before. He was lucky--or very clever--to have found a solution then.

"It can mean different things to different people, so I wanted to ask. I know sometimes there's costs, but I would like to save everyone if I can."

He's a little quieter than the energy he was known for, but the young man who kicked open a door with feral intensity is no less polite or sincere than usual.