[If she's thinking anything in the way of a counter argument, it's too far buried under the indignation. Later - if there is one - she might order the strings of thought into something conscious. Right now she reaches into her pocket - removes the black glass from it and here, now, closes across the length of the conference room to where he stands. There's the roar of white noise in her ears, something metallic on her tongue like she can taste dark matter in the void of space again.
no subject
She holds the black glass out to him.]