Melissa answered and didn't say anything.
Behind her the building was coming apart at the seams. Voices stacked on voices, somewhere above her a door slamming, somewhere below a woman's voice going up and up until it stopped being words.
People who'd spent a day and a half being told everything was under control, working out in real time that it wasn't. The sound of a locked headquarters discovering that the locks were the only thing left between it and the street.
Beside me Ingrid stood with her eyes on the front doors. Ahead of us Max was walking back toward the horse with the device already up in his hand. The scorched glass still held. The yard still burned. The administrative lights on the upper floors still burned above both.
"He doesn't think this is a real threat," Melissa said.
"Is that what he's saying, or what he's thinking?"
