Jane's totally just spacing out on the roof as Tarzan struggles to pull himself back up. Jane's busy blinking, but not crying, having just watched the man she loved -- the man she might have married -- fall to his death just out of her grip. Tarzan rolls himself back over the roof, looking as casual as hell, kind of touching the bullet in his arm. Jane takes a step toward something, and Tarzan intervenes, grabbing her hand. Sometimes he's holding his arm, and sometimes he's not as he stares at her. Jane finds her voice: "What were you doing up here? Why did you have to fight him?" Oh, man. She's blaming Tarzan for this? Uh, lady. Do you see the bullet hole in his arm? Did you see when Michael called Greystoke to take him away? Did you see the tasering? Did you see how Tarzan solved your second crime in two days? Did you see how this is all your fault completely for not pulling away when Tarzan put the moves on you in front of Michael? The police sirens blare outside, so some nice civilian must have called 911, because Lord knows Jane didn't phone the semi-homicide in.
Jane and Tarzan lean over the roof and see the single cop run over to the dead Michael. He doesn't bother looking up to see where he fell from.
Jane comes back over the edge of the roof, her hand clamped over her mouth. Already scheming, Jane says, "Listen to me. Michael's a cop. The police won't care what happened. They'll kill you for this." Wow. That doesn't seem legal, does it? That's...seriously, someone should look into that. ["I think she means that killing a police officer is a capital offense, so the cops would trump up a case against him and get him convicted and the State would kill him, but then, I don't want to put words into Jane's moronic mouth." -- Wing Chun] "So we have to go," Jane says. Still not really that upset about Michael dying, I might add. "Now," she says, and walks off. Tarzan follows her.