It did seem like wishful thinking, as much as this place wasn't horrifically over strict on timings, they did seem fussy about training the like. And while Sterling could do with the time to catch up on the jetlag, he'd likely get bored after 10am anyway. He didn't bother controlling the smirk at Cleo's comment though, she was hard as nails and damn efficient, and he liked that in a person.
Sterling tended not to work with partners, they cramped his style and tended to ask too many questions. He could count on his hand the number of people who'd known he was a super, and three of them were already dead by the time he was arrested. And even then it was more good luck than well planned. Cleo carried that sense of knowing what she was doing and being more than capable of doing it; there were no training wheels or stumbles. Besides, she got creative, and it was good to see someone else who could roll with things.
"Tempted to tell them to fuck off." It wasn't an overly taxing assignment, and it was successful, even with the required casualties that came with it. The toast was met with a clink, "I could go for another anytime." Because he wasn't sure what it was, maybe just the flex of getting his stored energy out, or maybe it was a near sociopathical thing to do with the murder calming him.