[pshrynk]

Vivaldi was starting to get worried. Well, more worried. He had to pee badly and no one was thinking about the dog in the heat of all the gambling going on. And that stuff packed under all the chairs that smelled to high heaven was sort of worrying, too.

Over on the next table, two socks were diligently wielding a pair of bolt cutters and clipping several wires. After they got done with that table, they rolled over to Harv's seat and started clipping.

"I hope you know what you're doing," said Vivaldi.

The socks pantomimed that they were basically just cutting wires at random, but not to worry, because they had tied the pyro tech up behind the set. They then rolled up to Vera's seat and started clipping there. Suddenly, they dropped the bolt cutters and wrapped themselves around her feet, exuding a certain level of naughtiness that could only be seen in a specific type of French magazine.

"Umm... Excuse me? But don't you have about forty more seats to dewire? Hmph! I've never been told to bugger off by a pair of socks before."

Vivaldi turned his back on the socks and sulked.