Carlisle nods. "Yes, another moment, if you would grant me that." He doesn't mean to keep Qubit waiting, certainly not after he's been so eager to show Carlisle this project, but the former clergyman can't help his apprehension. He doesn't like technology, that much is — and has always been — abundantly clear, ever since Qubit became the first person to speak to him via the communicator. As a person who spent the last bit of his life losing his tenuous grasp on his mind, his magic, and his perception of the world around him, he doesn't much care for illusions, figments, or unrealities either. However, he does care for Qubit, and so, he sucks in a breath and moves in another step, then another, and finally makes it to about where his companion is standing.

The room decides at that point that it's a good time to chime in. From an unseen speaker comes a peppy, albeit tinny voice, simultaneously mechanical and merry in tone:

"Welcome to the VR Room, here to make your dreams a reality! Though the room is safe for everyday use, remember that excessive or long-term exposure to the VR services may cause users to experience mental and/or physical damage, including but not limited to: itchy eyes, blurred vision, double vision, headaches, heartburn, nausea, upset stomach, diarrhea, painful rashes on the epidermal layer, fevers, chest pain, shortness of breath, confusion, increased loss of time, profound hair growth, inexplicable bodily transformation, and ceased liver function. Please report any and all suffering from unusual effects to the Medbay located on the lowest layer of Anchor. Thank you, and enjoy your stay!"

With that, the room falls into silence, though the discomfort etched into Carlisle's brow speaks volumes.