He inclines his head in acknowledgement. It is true. He does not expect his secrets to be forgiven, really. Only understood. Accepted, perhaps, at best.

"They are within their rights to be angry. Though I have the growing impression we will need to look after each other, here."

I still believe in you. It has never been like this before, and Oz finds himself oddly out of his depth; his hosts have never been given the option of turning away from him. There have been those who resisted, yes, but they were always overridden in the end— whether he willed it or not. Overridden is perhaps too strong a term. It's more that their dissent mingled with his tired acceptance until only a shared resignation was left. They lost the degree of division necessary for dissent to exist. It all blurred away.

Oscar is the first who does not have to believe in him, for however long they are this way. Oscar has the option of being only himself, for a time. Separate.

Yet here he is, choosing to take Ozpin out for warm drinks and conversation. Choosing acceptance. It is very brave.

"I appreciate that." It comes soft. It is perhaps among the most honest things he has ever said to Oscar, and it has the weight of an I'm sorry. "I would like to help them, if they will have me. And to help you, however I'm able."