Oh, good, other people were showing up. They were saved. Or, he was saved — there had never been any particular danger to the break room in general, Ford thought, and the only specific danger had been that he'd have to suffer through more awkward moments in close quarters with Dorian Fisk.

"Thank goodness," he muttered under his breath as the folks on the other side of the wall began discussing what to do. Presumably they'd try all the same things Fisk had, that hadn't worked, but probably eventually they'd get some traction.

It actually happened fairly quickly. Ford was a bit surprised, and he wondered with a vaguely guilty glance towards Dorian Fisk if maybe he'd been too... distracted to cast as well as he usually did. But, no, probably not. Ford was probably just projecting. He'd been the one to drop the knife, being tense and jumpy and awkward. Dorian Fisk had been making plans and problem-solving the whole time they'd been in this predicament, so it was probably just Ford who was feeling so stuck here.

The door reappeared, and Ford hung back just long enough that it wouldn't look as though he were bolting out at the first possible moment. When the door opened and showed off a few people in the hallway (their saviors, he supposed), Ford shot a rather awkward but grateful smile towards both of the Fisks and then scurried away. His cheeks grew red as soon as he passed Dorian Fisk on his way to the door, but he didn't look back as he headed down the hallway and back towards his office.