Jack rubs his arm fiercely as he bends for his wrench -- it didn't get him as bad as the bathysphere did, he doesn't need another spider organ, but damn, it didn't do him any good.

"I'll come with you," he starts to say, but he's interrupted by--

"I can hear you, you know!"

--a scornful voice, presumably belonging to whoever wrecked the guest room.

"Don't get ideas, boys," calls another. "We got here first!"

Jack straightens up quickly. Shit.

But then he hesitates. It's not the fighting splicers that he minds, he's been doing it most of his life -- it's letting Sinclair go alone into the office.