"Kid's squirrelly. He used to being on something?" He asks, point blank. There is nothing more unpredictable than an addict. (Sure, there are monsters, but there are humans, too, who are capable of too much, especially when out of their minds.)

He grabs two antiseptic wipes and the box of rubber gloves. He assumes there's tweezers in one of the bathrooms back in 1301. He needs to do a full inventory today. Maybe tonight. He needs to continue to find what could be used as weapons, too.

"You feel something?"