"Because it's..." He looks so confused. There's a tiny, aborted shake of his head. "It's something you do alone. Or... with people you can stand to lose. Because it's dangerous, and it's... most people find it disturbing."

And maybe Jim is utterly unlike most people of Tamriel. Maybe he can stomach or at least tolerate what they recoil from. But on the other hand...

"The last time I performed a major ritual," he starts, and his fingers dig tighter into his shirt, scrunching the pale blue cloth in his grip, "the last time was..."

Rielle. All that led him there. The things he never wants to talk about, or to bring up in any shape or form. His secrecy sure as hell didn't start there but in some ways it's gotten worse since then. He draws a shuddering breath, trying to make himself calm down and not really succeeding. He does manage to look up at Jim properly.

"I didn't want you to think about that. Or you and Stratos to start worrying again." Thinking he was up to something. Wanting to watch over him. Monitor him. It was more than he wanted to deal with.