He doesn’t offer anything beyond a nod of his head at Amy’s condolences; while Rip certainly is one to carry around the weight of his grief and guilt alike, he’s got little desire to speak on either at length just now. His son and wife are both dead, and Rip knows with painful certainty that there is nothing he can do to change that fate—nothing short of risking the timeline, anyway, doing something so foolish and reckless that it crosses too many lines even for Rip Hunter to bear.

Miranda might quite literally kill him if he tore apart time just for her.

Far easier to parse the rest of what Amy says, then. Rip doesn’t miss that the person whom he had assumed was a woman should only be a girl if Amy’s appearance is any indication. He takes another long drink, considering it, then sets down his glass with a softly huffed out breath.

“Time travel?” It’s not a simple explanation per se, but for Rip, it’s an ordinary one.