Saturday bites the inside of her cheek, thinks it through, and lets it drop.

"Mmm. You keep an eye on it, then." She's not willing to concede that there's no problem; a personal tension like this in a group is always a problem, and the entire Rig is edgy on a good day. That being said, he's owning it as his problem, which inclines her to trust he's not conning her and that he can handle his own trouble. "You assessin' that the risk is low enough for you to take a practice run at the upper floors, on paws?"

And then, before he can answer, her eyes widen, struck by a sudden thought. "Fuck - your shapeshifting, it's magic, right? Does it affect DNA, d'you think?"