He wouldn't have necessarily blamed Crichton for not speaking up past that initial missive. The last few days have been worse than anyone could have imagined. Wayne had remained on the sideline, trusting in the process that others more adept than him were putting together, trusting in the rage of the unnecessarily slaughtered. Now, he could do something. Maybe.

Wayne might have fallen into a doze where he's sitting when Crichton speaks up again. He blinks himself awake and looks back at his friend, letting his legs fall in front of him to splay across the gap between wall and cell.

"Yeah."