ONE:
SABRE is now behind BARCLAY, stabbing her SWORD into the burning deck.

BARCLAY is vainly trying to free his leg.

1. SABRE: I must say, ‘friend Barclay’…

TWO:
SABRE has crouched, hooking BARCLAY beneath each armpit and pulling.

2. SABRE: …your employer does not seem long on loyalty.
3. SABRE: Now with a pull and all your might—

THREE:
On BARCLAY and SABRE, straining with all their might. FLAMES climbing around them. They’re sweating.

4. SABRE: —nhhHHH!!

5. BARCLAY: hNNHGGGHHH!!!