"Got your back." Covering someone else isn't usually his bag but- he's got both eyes, he's got a jar of bees (because what are their plans even) and Rico's as good a meatshield and intimidating presence as they can get in this leg of the plan. Seriously. That uniform, that gun? Imposing as fuck. York hangs back in the vent, braced as he hefts the jar in his hand and tries to get a good angle on the room. He has to brace a leg one way and hook an arm another and half hang out of the damn thing to find B8; take half a second to squash down an instinctual gut clench of 'that fucking bitch' before he mumbles on the comms as he takes aim.

"Gonna get noisy, incoming bees-" Because this is the plan and their lives. When in doubt? Insanity. He gives the lid a little twist and chucks it right into the center of the drones (all inorganic which is real useful to keep in mind when he actually drops in to the room).