Greta takes a slow breath, giving the question due consideration. Part of her doesn't need to think about it — this has happened before, after all, and there's no specific reason why they should anticipate things carrying on after the next siren marks the end of things. But it still feels like she might be tempting fate if she speaks too quickly, or with too much certainty.

"That's how it seemed to work last time. Not that this is a very trust-inspiring exercise," she adds, rolling her eyes in the gloom. One of the many things about the Purge that makes no sense to her is the general premise of giving criminals free reign for an evening and then expecting all of them to obediently put down their toys and go home the moment they're told. That might work on foolhardy teenagers or other people who only intend to smash windows or steal electronics; she has a harder time imagining that anyone is going to immediately walk away from an assault in progress just because a bloody timer went off.