"Try the door," Emma said dryly, looking at the hole Namor had knocked in the brick wall when he made his entrance. "The inside of the warehouse is the focal point of the memory. I doubt there's much coherence beyond that. No emotional significance."

She took her own advice, glass fragments cracking under her heels as she made for the damaged wall. "You'll pardon me for not watching if you repeat your performance on Namor. I'm rather fond of him."

Even now, years later, she still caught herself wondering in idle moments how her life would have gone if she'd reacted a split second sooner to Selene's telepathic attack. Unprofitable speculation, but it was one of the few turning points in her life where she didn't have only herself to blame.