Sig shook his head at Wells. “You know, the thing about this intervention, Sir Savage, is we knew you were going to be stubborn. Hence, we prepared layers.” That tick behind Burgess’s eye accelerated. “What do you mean by layers?” Wells put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The rookies walked in. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Burgess complained, wishing he was closer to the window, so he could jump out. Maybe get lucky and become impaled by a flagpole. “Are you serious?”
