"Well," he says, his voice low and interested and dangerous, "that is one of my specialties."

He folds his arms over his chest, taking in the other man's posture, the idle set of his hands over the fine finish of his cane.

That particular detail is minimally more than minimally arresting. One would assume the separations of fate and subsequent directing of oneself across many potential quantum orbits would yield a dissimilar output, including variants of himself he has not formerly considered.

As such, he has no conception of why this version of himself would require a cane.

He opens a hand. "Elaborate."