John lets out a low whistle and shakes his head back and forth. It's hard enough these days to imagine Gotham in his time, let alone extrapolate into the future. And, in fact, having to consider a life without bread after three years of living with plenty (and 29 years of more-than-enough before that), seems almost too much of a stretch at this point.

Frowning, he lingers at the counter for a moment and then gestures to Raleigh's strange suit. "That what this is? Military?" He can't imagine someone going into battle in armor like Becket's, but then again, he can't quite say what war would be like in the future. Of course, if someone were faced with his armor, John would expect the same strange thoughts on the matter.