[Right. It's a helmet, like he thought the taller construct's head was initially. However, unlike that taller construct, this helmet doesn't move when its wearer talks, nor does it show a wide array of teeth when he grins. It's a static, emotionless expression, which Carlisle would not have thought was his preferred choice until faced with the aforementioned sinister, toothy robot smile. It was an unfortunately educational experience.

He rubs under his veil at the back of his neck a second time, still mortified about his unnecessary panic, particularly in light of this fellow being so painfully understanding. He even keeps offering to help, which somehow makes it worse.]

There are machines in there. [Which he also doesn't like, if the way he says that is any indication.] But... they concern me less. Everyone is so used to the technology all around us that I feel consistently out of place among them.

[Among both the people and the machines, apparently.]