Was he chivalrous? He didn't think so. He was immune. She wasn't. She needed the coat more than he did. It made sense. He nodded to her thanks, and looked back down the stairs.
"Jesus," his brows pushed together with worry, and he gave another shake of his head before moving to hurry up after her. Or as quick as he could hurry.
Whincing as he finally stepped of onto the roof with her, he turned to quickly push the door shut, "fuck," he grunted, turning back toward her as he reached down to hold at his knee, rubbing at it a bit through his cargo pants. "I don't think so. Not from out here," he mumbled as he took a few steps further away out of the range of the door.
"They can't open doors, can they?" In his experience, he didn't think that they could. He jumped when a particularly large blob splatted down against the roof top, beside him.
Straightening up, he hobbled back over to set his toolbox down on an air conditioning unit. "We can find something," he gave a bit of a look around, "or we should find something to put in front of it." He reached up to wipe some of the rain from his face before pointing to some paint buckets and such. "Maybe a piece of wood? Or something to wedge the door closed with? A pole or a pipe. Anything." He opened his tool box to fish into it, grabbing up a small flashlight to hold out toward her.