Jack might not be expecting a possibly-fourteen-year-old to come to his aid, but the first sign he gets of said help is a bean-sack bursting apart in the middle of the two fish-headed people behind him.

"Back away from him, please," Alfredo adds, a surprisingly cold look in his eyes, as the smoke floats up and obscures their view. He's behind the group, not ahead, and judging by the distance involved he has fairly good aim.

"I've got more where that came from."

Whether he intends to use more might be hard to discern.