Miles's smile, ever bleak, is razor-thin. "No," he says shortly, casting his eyes to the side. "No, it really doesn't."

A plain old medical discharge would've been an easier pill to swallow, one achieved without ripping his own honor to shreds. Moving back to the weirdly less uncomfortable topic at hand.

"I suppose I should back up a little farther, because what happened was...technically our fault." He winces saying it, because our is or isn't inclusive to him depending on how you look at things, but as far as he's concerned, he still blames the captains. "It probably isn't a surprise to him that we had...all sorts on the crew. There was a man -- Bruce -- he was human, but there was...something else about him. Some kind of experiment gone wrong, I don't know. Never really bothered to ask." It'd been hard to let go of that resentment. Some of it still creeps into his voice. "He'd...turn into some kind of monster, when he lost control of himself. Huge -- and I mean rip a building clear off the ground kind of huge -- and nigh on unstoppable."

It's his stomach his hand unconsciously goes to now, almost clutching, but there's no pain there, not anymore. "There was this other man I knew. Clark Kent." An odd look of fondness and longing ripples over his face before he tries to tamp it down, not sure even in his impending drunkenness how well his older self would take that sort of news. "He looked perfectly human, but he was an alien. Had some truly ridiculous powers of his own -- he could fly, he was nearly as strong as Bruce in his monstrous form -- and...he had his own alter ego, too. Not all that different from mine -- ours -- only he called himself Superman."

Miles rolls his eyes with emphasis. Seriously, Clark, he'll always think that sounds incredibly stupid.