By the time Wyatt arrives the scientist's laughter has trailed off into silence. Blood pools at his right side, already soaking the entire front of his parka where the knife had entered, and his neck has been torn into a bloody mess. The man's breathing is growing labored and he shivers almost violently.

Grey turns his head towards the sound of approaching boots, wincing at the pull it causes on his ruined neck. He doesn't recognize Wyatt. Not yet. But just the same, relief floods him at the sight of the other tribute. A faster death was oh, so very welcome.