"It's about the Silmarils, is that enough to go off?"

"Unless there's other oaths about Silmarils you want to keep should do."

"Nope."

"Okay." Pause. "There you go."

"...thank you. Very much. You have a nice day."

"You too."

He doesn't feel any different, because the Silmarils are all beyond reach. But he can play along with the premise. He walks back out to the bar.

"Sorted?" Cam asks him.

"Yes. Is there a summary somewhere of what is going on."

"Uh, there's a summary of where we are -" Cam offers him a stack of napkins - "but nothing so convenient about the ensemble."

He reads the napkins. 

He closes his eyes. 

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Then he will just sit here until something is asked of him; he can't be more functional than that without any cues.

So I'm currently not thinking this one is evil, I think he is yet some third flavor of fucked up, Cam writes to his Maitimo.

...yay? Is he making any trouble?

No, just sitting there.

Well, it's been thirty thousand years, I doubt a confusing afternoon is going to do meaningful harm or benefit.

Okay. Should I just leave him be or - what?

I don't know, do we need anything from him? There's probably not much point in making conversation but if there's information we could use -

Nothing comes to mind.

(Meanwhile, Bar gamely attempts to offer Matt a beverage.)

"No thank you."

Alas.

He is making Cam vaguely nervous. He should probably figure out how to stop doing that. 

He will do that later. 

He continues sitting there quietly.

Well, Cam's trying not to stare. He loiters, glancing at his computer periodically in case he is needed for any more tasks.