[That makes more sense, and she nods. It isn't the option she would have chosen, personally, but she's aware not everyone has the same goals in life as her. Rosalind is itching to get away from the Institute, hungry for her own shop, her own lab, her own practice . . . but she's always been desperately ambitious.]

Evras claims a portion of our work if they're made in his laboratory, using any bit of his materials. Perhaps he's owed a percentage of that, but not as much as he takes.

[She frowns as she stares ahead.]

I'm not yet wealthy enough to open my own lab. And if things keep going at this rate, it'll take me years to do it. He gave me an opportunity in publishing my name when I helped during the plague, but fame fades fast. It took me two years in my old world to establish my own lab, and that was with a very grateful man sponsoring me.

[She doesn't have the patience to wait for years. She glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. There's a quirk in her expression that suggests perhaps she's joking, but perhaps not.]

I don't suppose you're looking for investment opportunities, John Watson?