The second guard takes a hard swallow, noticing what the other guard fails to see. No longer just a twitch, the Wax-Man’s middle finger glides back and forth purposefully, like a pendulum, against the desk top. As slight puffs of smoke emerge around his touch, a small grooved indent forms on the metal tabletop beneath his finger.

Meanwhile, the first guard, consumed by his new partner’s inaction, growls out.