Standing up seemed a little too much to ask, but Cary's expression persuaded Kerry to step back, lowering the bat just enough to still be a threat if needed. Whatever science-y mumbo-jumbo Cary did was beyond her, but if he was confident that he'd programmed that elevator right? She trusted him just enough to give a little space. Who was to say someone hadn't developed a mutation that allowed them to change their genes? What if this was just something above and beyond the science he could handle?
Her glare continued as Cary frowned at Syd's answer. 2017. The beginning of everything. He looked to Kerry, who looked back, unimpressed.
"I always had a hunch he could," Cary murmured before shaking his head. It'd never had a chance to surface, not fully. It was the near-clairvoyance that did it, that made him suspect, but the ability never had a chance to fully come to the surface. Not before everything fell apart.
Before Cary could answer the last question, Kerry picked up angrily: "It's just us." Cary immediately looked at her to argue, only she spoke first again. "It's just us. He hasn't done a damned thing to help! He just sits there and you let him rot instead of letting me put him down."
At that she stormed off, tapping the crackling device on her hip and immediately phasing out of visibility -- the cloak shimmering her out of sight and suppressing the sound of her footsteps. Cary watched her go with a severe frown before he adjusted his glasses and offered a hand to help Syd up. She had her gloves on and it... it seemed rude not to at least offer. "Sorry about that. We've been down here for a long time," he offered softly, apologetically. "And for the record, it's 2024."