Oh what's this now?

2287? God. A year so far flung into the future that Bastien had never considered it. It was long past the time he would have lived if he remained on Earth, yet he still felt his heart ache for the residents of the planet at the time of this great war Nairi informed him of. Bombs large enough to cause such mass destruction seemed bizarre, a blank spot in his imagination because he could not even picture the idea. "...I...see. But..." Desperately he tried to pull something hopeful from the story. "You are still alive and telling the story, hm? So it has not ended. Just...changed. Would you say that was right? Obviously you know better than me, cara, but if there are still people to tell your stories..." Troubled at the apparent fate of his planet, Bastien's brush stopped and he put it down, opening his door and reaching around inside it to bring out some pastries he had been meaning to save for the end of the job, but felt he wanted them now. Politely, he held out the plate to Nairi before sitting on the doorstep and eating one himself. BASTIEN I'm feeling devious, you're looking glamourous