"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm good," Annie responded absently, glancing down at her bleeding foot. Some of the dead critter's muck was on her heel and she wrinkled her nose and tried to wipe it off on the faux terra cotta tile floor. "Nothing a tetanus shot won't help, anyway."
She took a deep breath, unable to stop the grimace that came to her face in drawing in the horrific scent now permeating the restaurant, and steeled herself for what she had to do. She let her senses open further, listening intently for the different patterns of footsteps -- or scuttles and drags, as the case may be.
"I think there are a few in the walls... maybe the ceiling," she said quietly; there was clunking and snarls coming from a nearby office door as well, as though some of the beats were fighting one another.
Another crash sounded and she whirled towards it, table leg raised at the ready, in time to see another fall from the ceiling tiles and land directly on the still sizzling hot grill. It howled as it hopped on scaly amphibian-like legs, and Annie's eyes widened at the sight of it: it looked like nothing more than a bulbous rotting human head with frogs' legs attached where the ears should be. It shrieked as it hopped away from the heat and landed... directly into a hot oil fryer.
Annie suppressed a gag. "Well," she reasoned. "They're not exactly bright, are they?"