"Roger," she says. That's all that's needed, acknowledgment that she's heard and agreed.

She crouches by the second leg of the tower to set the second charge, registering the relative quiet. Relative, because there's still the snarl of protest from the Sylphid guard who's just been bodyslammed, and the low groans from the one being gutshot, and the crackle and pop of sizzling plastic, but the gunfire has, for the moment, stopped.

If they're lucky, it will stay that way. If they're not lucky, well, at least they should hear any backup coming.