Jude edged closer to the window, warily watching her flashlight roll to a stop. He sat on the window's ledge, tucking one leg into the warehouse so he straddled the sill. He was prepared to go in first, but mostly he wanted to get his weight off the fire escape so they had a calm minute to talk shop. When nothing stirred immediately inside, he asked quietly, "What do you think about knocking the glass out up here?" He reached up over his head to press his fingers to the unshattered upper plane of glass. His voice was low, not quite a whisper, but mindful. "It might draw out anything that's in need of drawing out." There was a lot to think about with that particular action, too. The breaking would be sudden- just hearing it in his mind made him envision a dozen nearby undead heads turning. "Might also fuck us in the long run," because while they couldn't control the swaying or groaning of a fire escape, those sounds were ambient to the shuffling dead. It wasn't anything more interesting to them than an open gate swaying in the breeze. Breaking the window though, that was as unnatural as a gunshot.
Thirdly, the noise might be a last ditch hope for survival. If they got swarmed deeper in the warehouse, there was a slim chance that one of them could make it back here and break it out, redirecting the undead attention and give everyone a chance to escape.
He wasn't working alone, so he didn't make a decision as if he was. "Your call, Captain." When he looked at Stone, Jude meant it. He was willing to concede to her opinion, because her having living family? That gave her a hell of a lot more to lose.