The curve of his mouth suggests a smile, but it's the only thing that does. He notices the scrutiny of the eagle; he allows his noticing to be noticeable, but not blatant.

"Perhaps something. You're right. I always find more than I expect to here. Let's say it's more like - nothing that has to be given." After all, Altaïr isn't wrong. He will gain knowledge, even if it's only the fleeting acquaintance of a stranger, or he might come across a book he hadn't seen before, or a new strand of thought might arise from collaboration. There's never really nothing.

"And you could say that about teachers." The pale imitation of a smile leaves him. He doesn't avert his gaze, but there's something hooded to it still, withdrawn and inward turned.

"I helped one god challenge another," he says, quietly, "We lost. You've seen the storms, and the floodwaters." A pause, delicate, weighted. "If that concerns you, I can go."