Just then, there's a knock on the door and a whispered "Come in," from Ramon. There's no response other than a nod and a smile, and the sound of bare feet padding across the kitchen floor, the soft rustle of fabric as a woman kneels beside Lorne.

"Hello, Seth. I'm Doc. I'm here to help you." Wearing a plain dress in muted blues that don't quite match her brown eyes, she's one of those people whose age is hard to tell. She could be in her thirties, she could be much older, and her grayish brown hair does nothing to define her years. Her eyes are as warm as the urn she carries under one arm, and despite the crisis, her calm permeates everything about her, right down to the way she gently nudges the host out of the way. "He needs space to breathe, not sweets to distract him. One of you can stay with us."

Lorne nods, getting to his feet, and starts motioning for everyone to get back to their jobs, what ever that may be. "You heard the lady, darlings. Let's go make ourselves useful."