Jonathan felt a bit useless, waiting for Micah to come back, watching the other members of the group. Iris's blank stare had done little for his mood, and Moriarty's self-satisfied, patronizing chuckle along with it had done even less.
He turned away from her, looking anywhere else, as much to avoid that look as to deny him the sight of her.
"This is 18th century Paris," he said, tone sharper than he'd intended. "You're going to have a hard time finding clean water anywhere inside the city limits."