[Chilton put his hands in the air, eying the assaulter. He considered disobeying, considered lunging to grab onto "Arthur's" face, his arm -- any uncovered skin would do. He calculated quickly and accurately: it would take three seconds to move from his back against the wall to knees bent and thrust forward, hands grappling for skin. A half second to determine what dosage of sedative from his fingertips, another half second to have it swirling through the man's circulatory system.

A second more until it affects the brain.

But that was assuming there was no healing factor at play, and in this equation, that assumption was monumentally dangerous. The variables did not add up into his favor.

Chilton had a gun trained on him. It wasn't difficult math.]

Just stay calm.

[He moved, slowly and deliberately, to unlock the door. Chilton did not look at where his cameras had been hidden in his office, he did not want to give this man any reason for additional suspicion. It was better for both him and man bleeding on his floor, he rationalized, if "Arthur" just left.]

There. You can run. I am going over to that man you left for dead, is that all right? I am going to call for medical help. I am calling only for medical help, do not shoot me.