[Two intelligence experts walk into a room labeled the Safety and Security Office, and it sounds like the leadup to a joke, only no one's laughing. It's significantly cooler in here, at least, and the infrastructure seems sound; whatever destruction might be spreading outside these walls, it does seem at least that they've found some reasonable shelter from it within them.

That's not the only welcome addition, though; he's not overly familiar with the exact purpose of the riot gear or the firefighting equipment, but he's got enough of an eye to guess at what "some sort of armor" and "large transparent shields" might be indicative of. And then there's the cameras, a bank of which seem to be displaying the whole of the campus grounds —

There's information here, good solid information. And he ought to care more about all of that, except that Reno is here too, and that means everything else will just have to take a backseat because there are many definitions of the notion of the job, but it always starts with the priority that is him.]

Damage assessment...?

[It feels almost sleepy, the way it slips from his lips — the way he's so preoccupied with backing his beaten, aching body against the nearest wall for some much-needed support, because he knows Reno is going to lean on him and there's a better chance of them both staying up if he braces them first.]

Whichever one of us is in better shape gets first crack at chastising the other, all right?

[Maybe he's just sentimental, or maybe it's just his dark sense of humor bleeding through a little, along with all the...y'know. Blood.]

Come here, you. What the fuck, indeed.