[Natasha turns when she hears him approach, sticking the shiv in the pocket of her coat and taking the poker readily with a nod of thanks. She's managed to pry the vent away from the wall just enough to stick the poker into the gap, and then she grabs the poker with both hands and uses it as a lever, putting all her weight behind prying it off. For whatever reason, it isn't really working—she gets the cover to move a little, but it's disturbingly hard to break off for some reason. Natasha lets out a soft, annoyed noise as blood continues to drip down onto the table.]
no subject
Give me a hand?