[ He's still carefully taking stock of his myriad scrapes and injuries -- a touch to his busted lip earns a hard flinch, followed by a wince when that movement sets the bruises all down his back aflame -- and Gen's a beat slow to look up at that question. ]

Do I fucking look like -- ...

[ It's to his meager credit that Gen decides not to finish that irritable retort. As brusque and bratty as he is, he's able to gauge when a conversation merits more serious consideration, and now is probably one of those times, isn't it. Even if accepting any 'helpful' advice from this guy still grates at his nerves. ]

... no.

[ That eventual, weary answer is punctuated by a brief sigh before he continues quietly, his voice low and hoarse but level. Turns out Gen's more than capable of sounding like a semi-reasonable human being once he's stopped being such a prickly little shit. ]

I'm -- ... I was a student before I ended up here. [ Right. Past tense. Since everything back home's gone. He doesn't need to meet Eustace's gaze, so Gen resumes looking over his injuries as he continues listlessly. ] Everyone here's a demon or a wizard or -- [ a glance up at Eustace, ever so slightly curious and looking for confirmation: ] -- a soldier ... or whatever, but I'm nothing like that. I'm good in fistfights and I'm used to some manual labor, but that's it.

[ It sounds especially pathetic once he says it out loud, doesn't it? But his life had always been set in stone since he was very young, so -- he sounds glum but resigned, accepting of the facts for what they are. ]