Work Text:
"Well, it could be worse..." Ryan said, smiling hopefully at the museum curator who was sobbing quietly next to him.
Ryan looked at the utter carnage around him and rubbed his face wearily. It was a toss up who had caused more damage - the three Othnielia which had tumbled out of the anomaly in the main gallery or the special forces chasing them.
There was a loud crash and he looked up to see Lyle holding the arm of what had been a statuette of a ballerina. On second thought there was no contest; it had been the soldiers.