[ He hears the skepticism in the word perfect, and he can't disagree with it. Amos has no clue what perfect is supposed to look like — just that with Yima at their helm, it should be attainable. She's already built all of this through imperfect circumstances; there's no doubt in his mind that she knows more, and when it's time, he'll follow her to it.

But it is not yet time, and so. ]

Gentle's a good word. I like that. [ Amos' voice is soft, pleasant. Compliant, and accepting. ] I want... something where there's enough space for everyone. Where they can have the kinds of homes they want, with the people they want to share them with. Where the air is fresh, the water's clean, the food bountiful and full of flavour. Where they got easy access to everything they need, and can live in comfort and without worry.

[ He blinks, interrupting his flow. Coughs. Looks back at Drizzt as if he's delivering the most important sentiment anyone ever could. ]

I want somewhere where kids can grow up safe, and warm, and happy, and loved. Where nothing's going to hurt them. Where the possibilities are endless for them... where they can be who they want to be.

[ Unspoken, underneath it all: I want somewhere where people like me don't exist.

A beat. ]

So, yeah. Guess I want something gentle too.