"Because I'd rather not drown," he snaps, straining to keep the frenetic edge of panic from severing the word too harshly and failing utterly. He does not like the -

The bulkheads are swarmed with an uncontrolled surge of civilians, injured and destitute and screaming to be let out before the weight of the water proves to be entirely too much for the groaning support structure and floods the section of the city with a deluge of seawater. He tsks quietly between his teeth as he traces the fine latticework of cracks sprawling over the glass. The structural work here is shoddy at best, present time period notwithstanding. Vitreous materials are seldom wise when attempting to construct an architecturally sound structure at the bottom of the North Atlantic.

"You're free to risk joining the rest, if you like." He thrusts a hand to gesticulate vaguely at the seething throng heaping around the bulkheads.