Especially with Gregor and Ivan there, Miles wants to argue, but - he hadn't actually been on that ship. In that situation, at that age, surely he would have chosen the same, wouldn't he? It doesn't matter.

The brokenness of that laugh would be distracting enough even if he had wanted to pursue the topic. It sends a chill straight through his body, practically freezing his blood. Once again he tries to picture the scene: surrounded by falling glass on all side, having been impaled by some of it but not neatly enough to at least grant a quick death. Now his other self's earlier question makes sense. For all that Miles' recovery has been agony, he was at least granted that small mercy. He hardly remembers the needler impact at all.

He still clutches instinctively at his own scars, feeling for the spiderweb beneath his shirt. No points for guessing where his younger self's scars are.

"Were you alone?" is the only thing he can think to ask after all that. "Clark?"