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[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.

He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]

Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.

I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...

[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]

Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.

[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]

[Action]

[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.

After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.

He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]

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I can't let you infect anyone else.

[She shakes her head minutely, still tense, watching him for signs of the injection taking hold or somehow failing.]

I'm sorry.

[Given his erratic reactions, it might be difficulty to tell when the sedatives take him, but it's not long at all before his knees buckle. He slides down the door until he's slumped against it, groaning his displeasure.]

...you don't understand. I'm not going to hurt anyone...

You have an infection. It's dangerous enough, if what's happening to you is anything to go by.

[She seems to have a minute - enough to pull over her bag and sit down on the ground opposite him. If he levels out, she might need to wrestle him again just to get him restrained and back on medication. But there's always a chance he'll pass out and save her the work.

In the meantime, the biohazard suit and mask are pointless, and she strips out of both and pushes them aside, seeing to cleaning and bandaging the bite to her arm. It's already an angry red, hot to the touch, and she hisses a soft expletive as she at gets it cleaned and covered.]

Why do you need to get back down to the tunnels, anyway? What's down there?

[For now, at least, the sedation is doing its job. The hard edges have smoothed out of the world, and his tortured body can't quite connect well enough to fight, at least for the time being.]

I don't know why. It's just... something I have to do. You wouldn't have gotten hurt if you didn't get in the way.

[He notes her injury, blinking in confusion.]

I'm just going to have to do worse to you if you don't let me go... I don't want to have to.

[Maxine looks up at that. Just her eyes, a sharp, dangerous flicker that focuses entirely on him as the rest of her goes still. Whatever guilty conscience she was feeling about manhandling someone she just met? Not a concern - even if her voice retains a chilly sort of civility.]

Well. I guess you're welcome to try.

[She stands and walks back toward him, stooping to pick up the roll of duct tape she'd discarded on the way back from the door. Unless he puts up a better fight than last time, she's getting his hands behind his back and ankles together before he can make good on that promise - and before she can do worse to him defending herself.]

It's not like I want to...

[He still fights against her restraint, but manages substantially less resistance than before. He doesn't have the strength to do much, and won't be able to summon his prior mania until he's finished metabolizing the injection.]

On the network, they said it was lethal. If we're both going to die anyway, we might as well go down where we belong first.

Where we belong is in a lab, figuring this thing out. I have a feeling that Leo Fitz, quantum engineering specialist who had the good sense to lock down his samples the second he got sick, would agree with me.

[He can stay right by the door. She finishes a very thorough job on his wrists and ankles and steps back, doggedly going back to her station by way of the closet.

Might as well start the antibiotics now. Maybe she can buy herself enough cogent, productive time to hack together a rough treatment plan.]

That isn't an option anymore.

[Though his hands are bound, he still digs at the skin on the back of his hand, deliberately attempting to draw blood.]

There's something living in my head and I can't say no to it. I have to help it spread. I might be dead before it takes you.

I -- I have to...

[He might not be making much sense anymore, but it's the only way he can think to vocalize what might very well be a side effect of extreme fever.]

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