"And therefore he's likely to assume we're one and the same." His lip curls faintly, exasperation leaching into his tone. "Fucking excellent."

He shifts his weight back to his heels, one gloved hand rising to scrub through the short fringe of his hair. He looks out over the city, the thin fog mantled over the nexus of beaded lights.

"I'll be assuming there's a certain genetic similarity, shall I?" he snaps, "seeing as your description is consistent with most of the population of New York."