"I'll help." A silver-haired man, still in rumpled striped pajamas and bedroom slippers, heads over with a ruffled Mareep of his own in tow. "There's a shortage of hands around here, I thought I should lend mine."

His own apartment is mostly intact but something in him won't let a state of emergency pass without trying to help, whether that be an attitude he's always felt or something heavily instilled in him by Hilda before her passing. Either way, he's ready and willing to help. He points towards the rubble with his right hand, which appears to be entirely made of metal. "Is there any chance of getting ladders or being able to climb on the overhang? If we just start clearing willy nilly we'll cause a slide and potentially crush anyone stuck underneath."