Peter, on the other hand, does look up from the lock he's working on. "You tried cutting your hand off?!" he asks. He hadn't meant it, though he wonders now how animals chew their legs off in traps if they just bleed out afterward. Peter keeps that thought to himself as he pockets the paperclips, giving up for now on the prospect of lockpicking.

"Whatever gets us out of here," he mutters, dubious about their collective ability to do anything about a door.