Taking the lull in the dog's attack as an opportunity, Mykel loped toward the door, taking a knee beside the woman and helping keep the door closed, knife still in hand. The normally silvery sheen of the blade was marred by the opaque white coat of poison, but he made sure to keep the biting edge away from skin. He tried to convey softness in his face, and maybe something of a protective feel.<br/>"I really ought to get some sort of bar or lock to keep this thing from opening. Don't worry though, I've dealt with all manner of beastie and vagabond trying to break in here." He gestured with his knife, letting the paste shimmer in the overhead light, "If it does get in, this should take care of it pretty quickly. Especially if I can stick it near the heart."<br/>There was still a faint sniffing coming from outside, though it was getting quieter. Mykal took one of the half-dozen old metal chairs lining the wall and propped against the door, checking with a light kick to make sure it was solid. The chair seemed like it would hold, for atleast one or two more door-slammings. He dropped to his knee again, focusing his attention on his visitor.<br/>"I'm Mykel, by the way. 'The Good Doctor' they call me.<span style="font-style: italic">Are</span>you hurt at all? I can fix you up if you are."