A dream, right. He wonders briefly why that hadn't been his first thought. It hadn't even been his second, or third. That's the natural reaction, isn't it? Assume you're dreaming, or...

"Could be a shared hallucination. Somebody hit us with some weaponized agent, a gas maybe, and we're all really in a padded room somewhere while they run tests," he says. There's a beat. When he turns back to her, he's smiling faintly. He's joking. Probably. "Right. Well, I'll leave the 'cute' business up to you, but I think you're onto something."

He starts searching for an officer who isn't occupied with someone else, never afraid to take the initiative when it comes to confronting strangers in a strange situation, when he suddenly looks startled. "I mean. Not that I was saying -- I just think you'd have a better chance pulling off 'cute'. Because you're, uh. You are. But I didn't mean to overstep."

Stop talking, Steve.