Roland leans forward and looks down, this time not looking at the child down there so much as to figure out what it is the other child is trying to get a look at.

"Of course I didn't," he says absently, still focusing mostly on trying to follow the line of Kubo's gaze. Nothing down there but Jake. Jake. Fair of face, blue of eye, strange clothes rarely - if ever - seen on anyone in or around Legionworld. His expression is absent, patient. Very patient, looking up at Roland, not quite focusing on him. He doesn't seem to see Kubo at all. The skin of his hand, tight as the grip is, is not reddened, and his muscles do not tremble. He shows no sign of stress, awareness, or strain. "A single boy, even a lifetime with that single boy, in exchange for the whole of reality? Even before I knew of the great worm the Legion fights the stakes - my stakes - were the same. To abandon it all, that would have been-"

"Foolish," he finishes deliberately, decisively. His head snaps up again to look at Kubo. His eyes are set lower in his face than they were a moment ago. In the cavernous shadow where his chest used to be, something rustles. "As storytelling, now, is foolish. Is that why you've been asking all these questions? Looking to root out my story? The time for storytelling is over, you know. The fewer of our stories we remember, the better off we'll be. Why don't you understand that? The sooner you accept that, the less it's going to hurt."