As Ethan rose back to his feet from the jolt, he rubbed his stomach tenderly. "That's the third bloody time this week..." he grumbled, watching the other works. He spotted Florence retrieving the wrench from the muck and he swore. Things were about to get tricky. Ethan shuffled about and waited until Dazz was a good distance away, talking to some scrawny kid with a calculator. He heard the thunder and the TV's go out, but he paid it no heed. He bent down, pretending to tie his boot, while he reached into his jacket and touched one of the sigils that sat in the pocket. He imagined the sea, far off to he south (or so he believed), rushing against the shore. A tremendous bang echoed from over by the lifts.

The workers all turned towards the sound. The old bearded fellow let the wrench fall to his side, setting it down carefully as he started to approach. Ethan grinned slyly. He touched another sigil, lower, this time imagining punching his boss in the face. He appeared right by the wrench, and he scooped it up, glancing around to make sure nobody saw. He pretended to be cleaning it off for a few seconds just in case somebody still did, but once he was sure, he slipped it into his coat. Then, he rushed towards the lifts like everyone else, as if to appear just as concerned. Hopefully he could avoid getting tazed again.