Were it not her, he might not have so much as allowed himself to be pulled into anger. It's one thing for it to be there, and quite enough for someone to know how to pull it forth. To be able to draw it out into the light, as she has. Which is not to say that he can't still get angry at the circumstances present him, but under other circumstances it burns quick and fast. A flare, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

This is nothing like that. This is the sort of anger that stays, that burns fierce and bright, and that only ever seems to come out around her (or, occasionally, in the presence of the rest of the Five, but that's pretty much a moot point now that they're the only ones still alive.)

But he knows her as well as she knows him, and while none of it is particularly intentional, he isn't about to let it only be his anger that colors the air.

"No," he snaps, and if he weren't already facing Helen he would have turned abruptly to do so; in lieu of that gesture he offers a sharp downwards gesture with his arm, one that leaves the peak of one of taller holographic buildings retreating temporarily in the wake of his arm. "It's not about that. You've never cared overmuch about where I happen to be at any one point, and in case you've forgotten, I thought you were dead."

The last of those comments is drawing perilously near to the truth of the matter, but there isn't so much as a pause before Tesla moves on to other topics.

"The only reason it matters now is because you're feeling guilty about it. Because you had to... to be Helen at everything and somewhere along the way you forget to think about the fallout!"

Both the emotional and the physical, although he doesn't - quite - say as much.