He was questioning whether it was worth it, to be quite true. There was plenty to see and do on Strela but when the ants became angered he found walking in place was not enough. More magic, and more energy depleting from him and that constant pressure, and if he were to go through all this he might as well do something useful. In the end, it would be useful. Play the hero. Defy what was thought of him. Gain trust, and build an army. Everyone had their place, even the pawns.

The conformity here, the absolute single mind -- it disturbed him. He wanted out but he needed followers for the grand scheme of things and that is what brought him here. Taking the last bit of his energy to mask himself. He looked unwell even if he carried himself with the same haughty steps. Sweat on his skin, stress in his brows -- he'd been through this before. The mind warping, pushing limits, fighting a fight that seems just impossible to fight.

"Teh, you mortals." A beat, "well, one and a half." Only they could hear him, only they could see him, and soon only he could hear and see them. "You'll get a better response from of arguing with a brick wall, Edgeworth. Might I remind you that she's a sixteen year old. Get up and let's go."

He will sort through everything seen here today at a later time. Until then, getting out was the primary goal.