"Damn it..." Chase notices the pick up in speed, too, and briefly considers stopping the effort to stop up the locks and simply shouldering his weight against the door instead. Failing that, he casts glances around the room for something else to use as a barricade.

For now: a knee against the door so that every shove reverbs down his shinbone, and redoubled efforts, fighting her hands to get to the locks.

"Then maybe you should tell me what's about to join us. Do you know? They're kind of persistent if they're selling something."