James winced, skimming as quickly as he could through the language notes he’d made. None of them were terribly useful, though. “Jen danĝero!” he shouted, squeezing one of his fingers so the words would be reproduced by the exterior speakers instead of the radio. “Danĝero, danĝero!” Was that right? It was the closest thing he could definitely connect with negative situations. In one of his recordings, a parent had said it to her child when they got too close to the train tracks.