It was a lot of information to process, but if what she was saying was true -- and he still had his doubts, a fact that he hated -- then he really had no right to complain. At least he'd just had the courtesy of simply being told what was happening; she'd had the information downloaded. He tried to meet her gaze, his own scrutinizing, and after a long beat, he nodded, slowly.

The dupe was still muttering to himself ("Make it work."), his hands splayed over his chest as he turned on the spot, the green cloak he'd since pulled on sweeping across the floor; he looked more or less like Prime had predicted he would -- a tall Hobbit -- but he was dressed, which was more than Prime could say about himself. Reaching out with one hand, Prime reabsorbed the dupe, concentrating hard on keeping the clothing separate; he hadn't done this particular trick in a good, long while, though, and it sure as hell wasn't like riding a bicycle. When he finished -- wearing the same clothes the dupe had moments prior -- he was a touch breathless, if vaguely pleased looking with himself.

"Fine."