[He stays silent as Barry speaks, his arms folding on top of one another loosely against his chest, as he absorbs not only every word, but every choice too. Four months of being in this place, time which Eobard cannot properly account for because he has so little context of how this world functions right now. Yet somehow he remembers the day they were just having before coming here, so he assumes? What could that mean? Did Barry somehow not go through the wormhole properly and, as opposed to going back to the night of his mother's murder, arrived here? These are questions that slowly storm his mind, but ones he won't share. Barry has only a rudimentary understanding of how time and space function as dual constructs, which form a stable timeline and universe at that, so Eobard can't imagine he would receive a satisfying answer.

No one from home. Could be the truth, could easily be a lie. He would wager Barry has many more reasons to lie to him than to be honest, but he won't pursue it for now. If it is a lie, it's one he can uncover himself. Barry doesn't say what city he lives in either and that only further makes him believe he's being lied too. He doesn't mind, really, let Barry have his lies for now.]

I see. [He says plainly after a moment, allowing his thoughts to silently ruminate on what Barry told him.] Well, I doubt you had trouble making new friends with your sunny disposition, but I hope your stay hasn't been unpleasant aside from that. Have you told your secret to anyone -- or is that just one of those things you don't want to share with me? It's okay, I'm not offended if that's the case here.

[Because for whatever he may think of Barry, he knows he no longer is trustworthy or good in the boy's eyes. He also holds no illusion that he will ever regain trust. Barry would be foolish to truly trust him ever again and he does not take Barry to be a complete fool.]