"Marx can look at the roof for us," Felicity said. "Sarge can tell you how many of the exits will still work with beds and a whole family's worth of muddy shoes in the way. You two, come meet Rose properly before she decides which one of you is going to have to carry me down from a burning building."
"Where are we on fire?" Marx asked. He'd spent the last stretch of the walk looking up. A man who'd paid for his life with as much attention as he'd paid in the orchard could probably get along in a city with people throwing things off the roofs, but he was likely to walk nose first into a piece of laundry.
