Mason turns the lump of nylon into a towel he can at least wrap around himself, then releases the Atlantean. "So... you got the formulas for any of that stuff on you? If you're not going to try to kill me again, I'd love to talk science over lunch. I've been working with petroleum-based elasti-polymers myself."
As tired and frustrated as he is, Mason isn't really good with grudges, or ignoring science.
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