((I'm about to do something here that maybe shouldn't have worked, but I'm going to do it anyway. If I take it too far, feel free to hand me the Scissors of Shame.
Damien simply looked as everybody else gathered together near the door, speaking of various things. Nodding back to Abel and the newcomer, Caleb, in turn, the coyote relaxed himself, allowing the stuff he'd collected as ammunition to drift gently to the floor around him.
As the conversation turned toward the present, the coyote listened intently. With half the main floor already stored in his instinctive maps, he already had a rough idea of where not to go, but that didn't put them as group much closer to escape than they were, and even if Will's antics hadn't set off an alarm, Damien had little doubt that there would be guards to deal with eventually. A plan was required, and some form of counter-measures against attack need to be prepared.
*Well,* the coyote thought, *now's as good a time as any to try it.* Releasing his hold on his ammo, Damien cast his magnetism to the wall, latching onto the steel bolts holding one of the aluminum panels in place. Taking it carefully, one at a time, he unscrewed the bolts from the wall, leaving them in the panel itself; that way, he could carry the whole thing by its corners.
Pulling the panel into the air above his own body, Damien lowered it until it rested on his back, still supported by his magnetic force. Now came the tricky part; taking a steadying breath, the coyote braced himself against the floor, realigned his magnetic force to his feet, and pulled at the bolts to force them downward.
The aluminum pressing against his back felt like he was subjecting himself to a low-power trash compactor, but Damien toughed it out, and the thin sheet of metal soon bent around the coyote's body, forming a loose shell over his back and shoulders.
Holding the shell there, the coyote picked up the cable again. <Friends have way-out idea?>
he barked, trusting Sabra to translate.