"You know, they never even told me." He runs his fingers up and down the stem of the flower in an inadvertent anxious tic, worrying it. "Not once. Something about the...fall of civilization or, or society coming to terms with its imminent doom but nothing terribly specific. Just plain bloody inconsiderate, that. Nothing I needed to know at the time, I'm sure."

He scoffs in a manner that could certainly be construed as a pout, which he'd never have willingly engaged in if he'd known the definition of such subtle facial nuances at the time.