At the crash and sound of breaking glass, Steve was no better than Marie, his hands tightening on his cup so hard he would have been surprised it hadn't shattered - if his mind were noticing things like that at the moment. Hastily setting his own cup down, he followed on Marie's heels into what seemed to be a study. Before he even had a chance to offer his help, she'd single-handedly shoved the large desk away from the window and rain pouring inside.

Before she could get the idea in her head to try and pull the shutters with all that broken glass around, Steve moved over to the windows himself. Having stood by the fire for the last several minutes, his clothes were merely damp, but by no means dry yet, and he thought at least one of them should stay that way. The rain pelted him from nearly the chest down, and he was reminded he was only wearing his undershirt, even as he opened the window, letting in even more rain, to reach the shutter.