[center][h3]Ivor Stahlbaum[/h3]
[@Plank Sinatra][/center]

Having volunteered to be on alert, Ivor observed without much difficulty the thinly-veiled hostility writ on Lauren's features as she examined him.  When she spoke, she did not allot for him so much as a greeting, but immediately issued forth in a tone remarkably full of vinegar a command.  Shrugging it off as a manifestation of stress from the no-doubt harrowing rescue duty imposed on her, or otherwise a necessity of the perilous situation in which they found themselves, he obliged.  After pushing himself to his feet, he marched over with his hands behind his back and crouched over the faintly shuddering body of his coworker.  Laying a hand on the chilled man's neck, he spared a smile for Sangue.  "Good afternoon, miss.  Kudos to you for getting these guys out.  If his core temperature were any lower, the only thing we'd be able to do is put him back in the freezer."  He seated himself on the floor, leaning against the wall.  Invisibly, his eyes alighted on the cafeteria's service counter.

At that moment, however, Lauren directed a question his way.  "Well, of course," he answered promptly.  "In a place this small and this remote, you get to know pretty much everyone.  Speaking of, I do hope Moss and Millade are alright.  The guy you call Cap was headed their way.  Anyway, I suspect they were in the freezer to avoid being turned to extra-chunky salsa by all the Grimm infesting the place.  I could swear I heard some outside my door just a few minutes ago."  Ivor stood to his feet and made a beeline for the service counter.  He slid behind it and with practiced hands unlatched the coffee pot from the machine there.  "Ah, I knew we had some left from this morning.  Warm drinks are just the thing for hypothermia."  In mere seconds the microwave was spinning, the entire coffee pot stuffed inside the machine.  Under normal circumstances heating plastic would be inadvisable, but in emergencies all kinds of pleasantries could evidently be handwaved.  In very short order he returned with three mugs of coffee.  No steam rose from them; he knew not to overheat the beverage and risk burning the innards of the sick.  One he passed to Sangue for her to give to her charge, and another he very carefully tipped into the lips of the other, cradling his head with his hand.  After giving him a sip and gently laying his head back down, Ivor took a hearty swig from the third mug.  "Ah, yes!  So pleased to be helpful."