There's a math to it, see.
Dante's there in front of him, his hands all blackened and burned-looking. Stupid Dante. His big brother who'd for once tried to take care of him today and really just ended up getting his butt beat.
Dante had always seemed all-powerful to Cisco, but he was just a regular guy. Sure, one who could play piano really damn well, but not a match for Leonard Snart.
Information. That's what Snart wants, in that sneering drawl. He'll take Barry's identity. Or Dante's life.
Dante on one side of the equation, Barry on the other.
Barry's not here, Dante is.
Barry will have warning (if Snart follows through and lets them go, and that's a variable that Cisco doesn't want to think about).
Dante won't have time to do much more than shut his eyes before Snart destroys his hands for good.
Barry stands a chance against Snart.
Dante doesn't.
Barry's his friend.
Dante's his brother.
There's a terrible, terrible math at work here.
Cisco's good at math.
FINIS