J'onn's sigh escaped him almost with the edge of a growl.

"Your opinion is noted, Agent Carter."

Though delivered in a manner that suggested otherwise, there was truth to that statement. Carter's input was noted, and was even appreciated, even if the method of delivery was not. John forced himself to remember that Booster Gold was out of his element here, not only lacking in the kind of foundational background in law enforcement that other ARGUS agents had, but also lacking the desire and drive to actually be an agent. For Booster Gold, this was settling. This was the closest alternative to his preferred occupation, superhero, that current events allowed. This was not - allegedly - the version of history he had intended to arrive in, and Carter was doing the best he could with the situation that temporal mechanics had left him in. Quietly, J'onn wondered how much of that was also true for this Bart Allen.

The Martian considered Carter's words, and Allen's, more carefully. The name Meloni Thawne meant nothing to him, but Carter's comments had served as enough of a gentle reminder for J'onn to recall the list of names that Booster Gold had implied might be responsible for what he saw as alterations to the timeline. Carter had hoped it would provide validity to his story, examples of villains that J'onn might plausibly believe could be responsible for such changes. At the time, ARGUS had been aware of none of them, but those names had been logged away in J'onn's mind regardless, just in case: Per Degaton, Rex Hunter, John Osterman, Monarch, Extant, Chronos, Eobard Thawne. The Reverse-Flash, Booster had called him; or rather, a Reverse-Flash. Professor Zoom. An expert on metaphysics and temporal mechanics from the same era where Booster himself originated, and - by Carter's account - the chief rival and nemesis of Bartholomew Allen, from whom their current suspect also claimed descent, implausible as it all sounded.

If their errant speedster was presenting them with a fabrication, he certainly wasn't trying all that hard to make it seem plausible.

"There's no need for knucklebones or blood samples," John said at last, his voice escaping him as an ominous rumble. He focused his attention on the speedster directly, peering into him with all the intensity and insight that his currently human eyes could provide. He took a step closer, taking advantage of the height that his assumed form - still drastically shorter than his true form, of course - offered, peering down on the speedster. "If all of this is true, then I suppose you won't have any problems with me reading your mind to see for myself?"