He nods, clipped and unconcerned - fucking obviously this will remain here, buried in the pit of a structure whose foundations have been arranged to crumble and whose benefactors will lack adequate means of preventing that abrupt, inevitable disintegration. It is a simple matter of dragging the body and depositing it into the cell and closing the door behind it with a definitive clang, each movement sharp and swift and economical. The pain to his ribs is inconsequential, and the fluid heft and drag of dead weight scraping over concrete is a necessary conclusion.

Asadi appears to have successfully completed their alternate objective in recovering Greta, ideally with a minimum of injury to her person, and she seems, upon initial evaluation, wholly undamaged. Rush interjects into the reunion, catching one of Asadi's wrists until he holds her gaze unwaveringly.

"We have to go," he says, the words an urgent hiss, his eyes dark. They snap to Greta, and his head dips in a slight, meaningful nod. "They'll be regrouping at any moment."