"I—" John blinks, briefly stymied. He'd expected some degree of prickliness; he hadn't anticipated such a specific accusation. But there's no need to pause and consider whether he might potentially deserve it: he cannot imagine the Archivist dropping in on one of Martin's nightmares and not deigning to remember it. If he'd been there, he would have logged away every miserable detail.

"I wasn't," he insists, still sounding a bit bewildered by the suggestion, but not at all uncertain of himself. "I-I— I didn't."