[True as Qubit's assessment of the suits may be, Carlisle still doesn't look pleased to have blood coating one foot, doomed to leave a trail of prints as they investigate the rest of the store. He gives it a shake, but the decaying brain matter remains; he shudders, definitely the more disgusted of the two men.]

It's fine. I suffer only the onset of nausea from having the inside of a shambler's head all over my foot. [And no, he does not want— okay maybe just one paper towel. He takes the roll begrudgingly.] I will admit I was not expecting it to hurt that much. That is abnormal.

[As is he, these days.]