[Carlisle only gets a glimpse of Qubit's despondence as he emerges from the room; it's gone the moment Qubit notices him, but not forgotten in the slightest. Their eyes meet briefly before Carlisle lowers his gaze, shame etching into his visible features. He may be calmer, but his internal disgust festers within him, as always.]

Embarrassed. Exhausted from the toll of living like this. Frustrated with my very existence and what it means for those around me. [He shrugs stiffly.] Aside from being drawn here, a normal day.

[His gaze flicks back to Qubit, then trails from him to the portrait in his line of sight. His brow tightens just a bit, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the faces he finds there, his head tilting a degree or two as he focuses on one in particular. Is that...?

And back to Qubit his attention goes as he tries to feign ignorance of the picture and its implications. One thing at a time.]

And you?

[He doesn't blame Qubit for standing a distance from him, as he'd distance himself if he could. However, Carlisle knows good and well that not all wounds are physical, and as he thinks again on that look of sadness Qubit wore when he exited the playroom, he cannot help but recall the torment in Qubit's voice earlier, the look of unadulterated anguish that stunned the near-Revenant from his wrathful tirade.

That look, the portrait, the stoicism now -- they all tie together, don't they?]