It's been awhile since Sonny has lived in any other city. He forgets there's places that hide their darkness and pain behind sunlight and beaches and pretty scenery.

Chicago operates differently. There's not a whole lot of pretty scenery around, and this city in particular has more destroyed buildings and landmarks than should be right. And they leave it that way. The city is paying for enough as it is without paying to rebuild its landmarks and buildings. It's why there's still a giant hole where the Conrad once was.

There probably will be one for a long time to come.

Sonny glances at her and then back at the wreckage. "You think not? I'm sure people would love to send one of those postcards home. 'Ma, I almost got blown up today. Chicago sure is big. Love, Timmy.' It'd add some nice realism to their lives."

Because that's what people want in a world like this one, Sonny. Realism.

"That's what I'm here for... to think of the unthinkable," he says, and it's more that he's so damn old that he's seen just about everything and knows how these things go. And he snorts. "Right here. It'd be nice if there was one, but it's hard to have experts on anything when the Rift brings in something that didn't exist before, gives people fuckin' abilities that no one's ever had before."