Not a chance you're getting me up in the air with that thing. I'll get you a cookie sometime instead. [He really will, he'll have someone run it over to the station. In the meantime he's definitely glancing into a few rooms if the doors are open at all as they pass, a little smirk on his face - he knows Jacob is all heart underneath his apparently insatiable lust for vigilante murder, and this place is standing proof of that.

And he wants to know the layout of the place in case he ever needs to commandeer like, fifty Rooks, so. There's that too. Up the stairs... he scoffs at just how casually Jacob reminisces about being shot, leaning over in the cramped stairwell to elbow him a little. Good one, muscle-for-brains.] You sure put the fear of God into 'em after that, according to the flag outside.

[real compliment,]