[There's an even more awkward silence as Guzma stares at him after his response. The look isn't quite... angry. Frustrated, for sure, but there's a spot of disappointment behind it as well. This was never funny to begin with, but as this continues on, Guzma's growing more tired of this joke of a situation.

Finally, he lets Sun down, but the pensive look on his face does little to tell what's going on behind the expression. He's not sure what to believe, what to think, what to feel. Why doesn't Sun know him, why does he only know of him? It didn't make sense, and he couldn't make sense of it.]

You really don't know, huh?

[He sounds tired. There's a decided calmness in him that the Guzma Sun knew didn't possess in any measure. His expression sours as he sticks his hands in his pockets, and turns away from Sun.]

I don't know what's goin' on—what kinda joke this world is tryin' to play on me, but I ain't laughing.

[It's not much of an answer. At all, really, but at least Sun's free?]