She can't stop herself letting out a humorless huff, realizing how ridiculous it is that she's the one trying to argue for linearity, here. "That it is," she agrees wistfully and looks back out at the glow of the burning city. This line of reasoning would hardly work on her if she'd somehow lost her grasp on continuity. But what would?

At his question she shakes her head, concern gnawing at her. It's mostly concern for him, but whatever is capable of suppressing his mind like this could be dangerous to her too. "I don't know. I can't try to detect you while I am focused here, and my sensors don't cover all of Manhattan to begin with." She glances up at him sadly. "You probably don't remember falling through a rift between universes and being trapped in an alternate New York."

She senses his mistrust more than she sees it in his posture, and is on her guard as well, needing to be ready in case he changes his mind about tolerating her. But she doesn't try to exude reassurance anymore, seeing how it would likely fall on deaf ears or make him even more suspicious. He'll find nothing but sincerity and compassion if he looks, anyway. But that would bother her, having gaps in her memory, reality not quite fitting together. So she tries again. "How do you think I know you, if you don't remember meeting me? I don't believe your universe even has sentient time ships at all."