"Yeah," Michael said slowly. "I picked up some of that. That I was here. But it wasn't me, Alex. Or not the same me, or I don't remember. I don't know how the hell it works. But to me - that wasn't me. I'm still the alien who hasn't left Roswell for longer than a road trip."

He snorted, casual about the sex in a way that Alex could easily read as uncomfortable. "Yeah. I found that out," he said. "A woman who knew the last version of me slapped ice cream out of my hand to stop me eating the rest of it. So what, cook all your own food? Or is it going to be in the ingredients too? Take up farming and livestock ranching for a pure source?"

He met Alex's eyes for a second before looking away. "So which one was you? Or both were you?"