"M35. Should be... halfway or so." As far as Leon could figure, anyway. But he wasn't about to admit that his mental faculties were starting to go, now, with the blood loss wearing on him. He would not faint. He would not prove these annoying bastards right. He was stronger than this.

Not that he was at all sure why he cared, anymore. After this, he never had to speak to these two again, if he didn't want to. What they thought of him was immaterial.

... But what he thought of himself was vital. And he couldn't bear the thought of failing at something as simple as making it to the clinic.