“She really wasn’t,” Brigitte sighs. They’re going to have to pass those corpses on their way back out, too, retracing their steps to find the exit. She’s already determined to not look too closely as they walk past them; she has no interest in seeing that familiar blood-smeared face again, the brown hair matted and unkempt.

Instinctively, Brig moves to Wash’s other side, the one that Maine isn’t covering. She slings her mace aside and swaps it back out for her shield again; a solid wall, a barrier between their weakened comrade and anything that might come at him from this angle.

And she starts moving, leading the way back out. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.

“Do you feel okay?” she asks. “Did they do anything to you?” Because god knows what bizarre experiments might be going on here; she’s heard about the bunker, the blood vials.