He may be a good spy, talented enough to find out information other people might not be able to, but John doesn't believe he'll be the one to figure out what makes Darrow tick. From what he's gathered over the months, there are people here of far greater intelligence than he possesses, people who understand things he'll never be able to and if they haven't worked out the intricacies of this place, he doubts hell be the one who manages it. Harold might be able to, he's far smarter than John, but even that seems questionable now, given everything he's seen.

"I've been there," he agrees. "And it doesn't seem to answer anything, no. I'm sorry."

It's given him plenty to think about, but it hasn't given him any answers. All he knows for certain is that some version of him died over there without Harold Finch's intervention. That and he isn't sure he would enjoy having to deal with the prevailing fashion.

"Names then," he adds. "And ages. I'll see what I can do."