Bart's eyebrows shot up at his son's serious advice; he was equal parts annoyed at what he perceived as his son's order and worried at what this atypical behavior implied about what Chuck had experienced and seen that night. He nodded once, tightly, before realizing that Chuck wasn't there to witness his silent assent.
"Yes, fine," he said curtly, already making the mental calculations of just what weapons the guards might have already and where he could procure more on a short notice. How far could his connection at the police station extend? Did they still stock confiscated assault weapons?
"I... don't know," Bart said slowly, reluctant to admit to his own ignorance, and distantly aware that scaring Chuck further would do no one any good. "I don't know what kind of containment we're dealing with. If there's going to be a quarantine, I want you far away from it."
That was it, he needed Chuck far away. Hell, maybe he's insist he visit one of the hotels in Monaco. Once his son was safe he would be able to devote all of his attention to the problem of Bass Industries and just how he could extract himself from any culpability or, worse yet, liability. Of course, there was Lily to think of now and her children. He'd simply have to insist they all leave the city if it came to that, it wasn't as if he didn't have the resources to arrange for their speedy exits.