Danny looked down at his glass. It was a personal question, a terribly personal one at that. He swirled the liquid slowly, and tried to think of how to say it. That he was killed trying to help someone? That Super Skrull took over his identity in order to aid in their quest to take over the world, killing man heroes in the effort? That his partner was jailed for his murder, the love of his life in bed with the Skrull without knowing? That sort of invasion of identity, of privacy, of place.
"They killed many good people," he said finally. "Including me. Framed my best friend for my murder. Impersonated me to take control of my company, my identity, my power. They... were not innocent refugees." It wasn't as much as he could say, yet it seemed like more than enough given everything.
He shifted in his seat, and glanced up at her, in some ways worried he'd offended her. Different worlds. Different possibilities. "I guess I could help with that?" He asked hesitantly. Then she sneezed.
"Huh." He stared at the blast through the wall, the bit of sunshine leaking through. He sipped the whiskey. "That's an unusual superpower."