"Then who is he?!" First at Watson, and then at Cragen, who isn't have much luck freeing himself from the grip of two workers. "Who are you?! Tom Broadfoot exists, people know him, there's posters, so who are you?!"

Cragen doesn't answer, but there's a moment where his eyes flick around the room to see if he can find Maddox. Not seeing him, he only tenses up more, because that doesn't mean Maddox can't see Cragen.

With a frustrated noise, Crabb lunges— but doesn't punch him. Not this time. Instead she grabs the dangling mess of prosthetic skin and tears it the rest of the way off, revealing the scarred, angry face underneath.

She's not the only one to gasp, at the sight of someone nearly a spitting image of Gall if not for the scarring. Now it's Crabb's head whipping around looking for someone, trying to see where the Hell Bastrop has gotten to, but they can't share more than a second of eye contact.

"Alright, I think we need to take this outside," one of the members of staff says. "More police should be on their way. They'll straighten this out."