Ah, yes, that. Reeve sighed, arms crossing over his chest in a quietly defensive position.

"I cannot speak to where we are, either. What I can say is that was... three years ago. The night of an attack on the city I managed. A few hundred thousand people died."

More than that. He can generate an exact number, and the very memory of the night leaves an ache in his chest. Pain in his hands, which are shaking except he has them tucked away so it's not visible. The ache of so many lives lost, and him powerless.

But his eyes looked to Steph and he nodded. Yes. That was what she thought it was.