The funny thing is that he's got a pretty good idea of how dangerous that fascination and want to possess is, just...on a level he doesn't quite connect with. At the end of the day, the Meta wanted him, and the other AI wanted him, and he didn't know what would happen if they got him. It took him so long to start coming around to the idea of everything that happened before landing in that fucking marsh. (Thank god he doesn't know of Hargrove's trophy room.)

He understands a little better than she thinks, but he'd still take that over pitchforks. At least he'd be alive and might be able to find a way out rather than, y'know, dead. Maybe he'll try to explain it to her someday. Might even go better than when he explained it to Christine.

So making her laugh instead is a much better use of time, something to distract from the darkness and dankness of the dungeon, the pain and weariness. Her laugh is infectious, and he has to laugh at himself along with her. And it feels so good. Slouches forward, almost doubled over for it just because it echoes and rolls around the air and sounds great, the two of them laughing it up in a place of despair.