If Sherlock were in Selina's head he might have something to say about people who don't care how the science actually works. He isn't, which is probably a good thing in a number of ways. He lifts his coffee mug up to the light as if noticing it for the first time, then sets it back down carelessly as though he's bored of it. It makes a solid clink against the tabletop, like it's a real, solid thing in a real, solid city. Almost like.

"Well," he says in a curt voice. "Perhaps someday none of us will have to be there again." He stands and taps a few buttons on his bracelet--paying for his coffee, and yes, tipping the Extra waitress, although he still doesn't look happy about it.

"Then again, perhaps not," he says. "Good night, Ms Kyle."