"I'm a Cylon." Not that he expects this guy to know what that is, but like hell is he going to let him assume that he's human. "What are you then, if you don't mind me asking? Not everyone is fortunate enough to live twelve hundred years."

He watches the other man take off the spacesuit. "You sure you can avoid it then? That's what Oedipus tried, you know, and look how well that worked out for him. Maybe by coming here you're screwing yourself over even more."

Ever the optimist, this one. But his polite, if mild expression of disbelief over this man's situation disappears when The Doctor asks his own question. He averts his gaze, his jaw hardening. He wants to snap back that it's none of his damn business, but he did set himself up for being asked... dammit...

"There was a war, and I was on the wrong side of it," he answers shortly. "I hurt my girlfriend in the process. It won't happen again."