That's the way a Seven ought look. A Novak, even. A Person of Significance.

There's calm approval in the deep cant of his head, the sharp sound like a crack as he hits owlish and returns toward upright. "We'll manage, sir."

This, after all, was their Specialty more than any other Castle.

"I'll have something clean sent up to the surgery, then?"

Because Jordan would need to go get Patched Up now. And would also need a less Messy shirt.