Between a vampire and a werewolf, they manage to subdue the table. (Mostly? By dint of screwing up its legs so much it can't really do anything but snap ineffectually at them and wobble crankily against the stairs and railing.)

Coming down off the rush, Kevin surveys their work and brushes some splinters off his coveralls. He's got some bruises, but isn't really all that bad off.

It's only now that he's starting to process that the whole werewolf thing is maybe a problem.

"Um," he says eloquently, eyeing Stacia sidelong, nerves beginning to creep into the set of his shoulders. "So uh, good hustle."