Jack's fireman instincts don't extend to mind-reading, sorry.

Once the request is communicated out loud, though, he heads over to the bathtub -- depositing the beans next to the soap on the way -- and leans briskly over Sinclair.

"Did it work?" he asks, looking down at the injured leg. The pants are on, he notices. But there's a bulge underneath them, under the tear from the hook, that suggests wadded bandages.

While Sinclair answers, he'll be lining himself up with hands under the guy's arms to heft him out of the tub.