Ronan turns. Without the phone screen to focus on anymore, his eyes gaze forward into nothing. His captor unmasks and it makes no difference to him. The consciousness piloting his body isn't his own. Information stacks up in his memory with no one there to sort through it. Useless to him.

He holds perfectly still while Kylo drapes his body in dramatic black costuming, concealing his ragged muscle tee and his intricate ink. A mannequin until it's his turn to respond. Then he utters, "I understand."

Directly to the car.