That was the last thing Bobbi expected; the zombies weren't exactly a tactical threat and would have been clawing uselessly at the walls if they could figure out there was anything worth eating in here at all. The first crack in the wall sent her flipping acrobatically over the table behind her to put more shields in between her and the threat, ducking underneath it and out of the spray of the debris with her eyes squeezed closed against the dust and listening for what seemed forever to the whine of metal singing through air as it hurtled closer. Then just stopped. A breath coated Bobbi's throat with dust but she held the cough that followed, feeling like her chest might explode, but the footsteps that stalked deliberately closer were more important. Slowly, she opened her eyes, casting a sidelong look toward their new guest like she didn't really want to see what was coming, swallowing the dust in her mouth and trying not to flinch as every table Magneto casually tossed crashed to the floor. That had to be Magneto, right? But what was he doing here? What could Hammer possibly have done to cause this when he was so busy getting up her ass all the time? Very slowly, Bobbi searched around her feet without taking her eye off of him, groping for the brass weights she had heard fall and bounce when she jostled the table and knocked the instruments to the ground. When she caught Hammer's gaze flicking to her, she tried to motion for his swift goddamn exit at the first opportunity, jaw tight and eyebrows raised, before he got himself and his kid killed.
"Sir," she greeted as she climbed out from under the table and tried to straighten with some dignity, "Mr. Hammer is not taking appointments at this time." That part of her life was supposed to be well behind her, but Bobbi did kind of miss playing assistant, considering this was the alternative.