Roman look sidelong at the Major in a "what-are-you-nuts?!" type of stare. Of course, truly, he knew the Major was a little lacking in the sanity department, but he didn't like when it implied possible bodily injury to himself and men. The False Face Society were expendable, sure, but they weren't toys. Jesus. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the movement down belong. He directed his attention to the commotion. Several of the gang members had backed away several feet, their body language hesitant. When one of them turned his head up to shipping container for--what? reassurance? orders?--Roman looked down with a steely, uncompromising glare.

"What kind of damage are we talking about, say one of them escapes?"