There's a little knot of newbie waitstaff clustered near the entrance to the kitchen, surrounding the poor shapeshifter, who got grazed by a flying splinter and has come very close to falling to pieces again. (Not literally; her ears and fingers may be sagging a little, but they're nowhere near dripping off.) "I'm okay," she's saying thickly, "I'm okay."

Beth is standing a few feet away, feeling curiously untouched by the panic now that it's over.

Either that or it's shock.