Bryce gives a thumbs up.

She tries the door, and, when its locked, points the tube of lipstick(?) at the keyhole.  It makes an oddly melodic sort of whirring noise, and the deadbolt snaps open.  In she goes.

(okay, sure)

Bryce stays crouched outside the door, waiting to dash past it to the garage door.

He'll be able to see her as she opens the red door, from the reception area to the garage; and hear her as she yells to get the masked man's attention; and hear the man's pounding footsteps as he rushes her.

okay go go -

He sprints past the people-door to the garage-door and bends down and tries to heave it up and fuck this thing is heavy he's so out of shape - he grunts - gets it up high enough and ducks and rushes in, lets it fall behind him - 

( - he can hear the door crash shut and the drone of the mask man's drill and the whir of whatever the stranger used on the door, and the drill shuts off - )

 - no time go go -

 - it's dark but he can see well enough, he runs for the box -

He presses his forehead against it as he scrabbles for the keyhole.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ran - "

There's a few scuffs from the drill, on her door, but she's okay.  The door swings open for him.

"Rrrequest that, you stand aside, sir!" bleeps the robot dog disjointedly.

(okay,,, sure,,,)

He gets out of the way.

"Heat ray incoming!" the robot dog crows triumphantly, and an orange beam lances from his mouth to the blankets draped over the masked man's back.

But he dodges, drops to the ground out of the beam's way -

(and there's no sign of the stranger, anywhere behind him)

Whatever it is in the mask has no trouble maneuvering on all fours, and scuttles forward toward the dog like an oversized insect.

"Rrrecommending tactical retreat!" bleeps the dog as he trundles backward, heat rays firing at the man's mask.

He glances, between the man, the dog, the TARDIS -

He clenches his fist -

(she said weeping angels can't move if you can see their skin)

(why else would he be covered up)

(he's not moving like a human)

He yells "Stop shooting" and there's no time to see if the dog listens he just screws up his eyes and runs and -

 - he's there, face to face -

 - he hooks his fingers under the mask and rips, flings, desperately -

It's not moving.

Okay.

He keeps - his eyes - open.

He stands up.  Steps back.  Keeps his eyes on the Angel's face.

Without turning his head, or moving his eyes: "Hey uh robot dog, does this thing stay a statue if you look at it?"

"Believe, it will.  And I can maintain visual contact, indefinitely.  But, rrrecommend, we test, from inside the TARDIS!"

"Good idea," he says.  "You first.  Say when."

Sounds of trundling and robotic humming.  After a moment:

"When, sir."

"Okay."

He steps backward.

Step.

Step.

Step, his hands groping behind him for the doorway.

Step.

Step.

Step.  There's the door.  He grabs onto it, uses it to orient himself.

(His eyes are starting to prickle, and water.)

Step.

Step.

Okay.  He's inside the box.