[There's a bit of a pause before he speaks again. This man may be the strangest person he's spoken to, but what logic prevented men with ridiculous powers when he could converse with a naval lieutenant from the Napoleonic Wars?]

I suppose this would be the moment when the drink would not only be a pleasant addition to the morning, but preferable?

[He supposes such outlandish things are a bit harder to grasp than living histories. Super heroes. Diverting international crises. Is that what it takes? The best ways of diverting international crises is to do so underhandedly. Though the sorts of people that find themselves attempting manoeuvres of under the table dealings are those that pass information. People such as himself. Traitors, spies, ghastly unheroic and destined for tragedy. England will blot out his name, surely, if he is ever caught. Swept beneath the corner of a rug for infiltrating British Intelligence, American Intelligence, breaking the German codes of Enigma, and doling out the secrets of the Manhattan project to Stalin in Russia. Nobody dons bloody suits and trounces upon the poor robbed banks of their community, whisking away women in a trance. People risk being caught and executed, hiding what they stand for and hating who they pretend to be, biting back that it's hard because it's what could potentially end the slaughter of millions.

Men in masks were made for diversions. Guy has his masks, and he is very good at wearing them. He is a walking, talking, all-singing, all-dancing diversion. A poor drunken bastard whose 'second life' can never be seen. Not in England. Not by the fascists.]