Viktor rolls his eyes immediately, a corner of his mouth curling into a patient smile. He lets Nathan roll through his theories, waggle his spindly fingers, do whatever he needs to do to get the never-ending string of thoughts out of his never-stopping mouth.

"Nathan," he says, dry and patient. "It's me." Nathan's theories make sense, as much as anything else around this place. "Viktor," he clarifies. He looks up at Nathan from above his sunglasses.