The screech she makes is totally feline, jumping back - too late, though, her arm coated in fine needles. Most of them didn't make it through the sleeve... but the ones that did don't feel great. With a look of disgust, she fishes another tool from her belt - a black steel cylinder. A few flicks of the wrist and finger-fiddles later, and it's a pair of fine pliers that she's using to pluck needles from her arm.<strong>"Shit. I'm going to have to patch this entire sleeve."</strong>She hisses as a long needle comes out and is dropped to the floor.<br/><br/><strong>"Hey Maud,"</strong>she chirps. He knows what's coming.<strong>"Why don't you give the door a lick?"</strong>She flashes a smile at him, followed by another wince.<strong>"I'd, uh, suggest no one else try to go through there just yet... unless maybe someone wants to use their big sword or a rock-on-a-stick to just smash through the door. It'll be a minute before i can get in to try to turn it off."</strong>