Fairfax makes a little frown of consternation that tugs at the scar pulling at his mouth at hearing that. He stiffly makes his way over to sit on the crate in question, with his shoulders hunched slightly.

"I'd rather you didn't make a vest bomb or a mine," he starts seriously, hands clasped loosely together. "Can't tell you no, but - you'll have to look elsewhere." I'm not doing that anymore, is what he means.