"We do have a fully stocked medical lab." That was worth pointing out, because that was where they were headed. And Warren wasn't giving up his arm in a moving elevator unless Scott was in danger of dying in the next five minutes.

Which, from the look on Hank's feline face and fact that those enormous clawed paws were still pressed against Scott's throat, monitoring his pulse. Warren could hear that he was breathing too slowly. It might actually be a concern.

Hank hesitated, debated and locked eyes with Warren. Then the elevator dinged as it touched down in the basement and doors slid open, spilling them into a state of the art medical lab, filled with gleaming metal. .

Warren snagged the tubing from out of the air. Hank said: "If I know Scott, I'll need help keeping his arm down for a blood draw and to set the needle for the transfusion. Sentinel?"

Warren could handle himself. He'd done this enough that getting a chair pulled up to the nearest table and sticking himself right fucking now was manageable. "Heart surgery?"