Letting out the slightest grunt - the kind that tells the conversation partner that they were aware words had been spoken, but had not really taken them in - Mohinder was already syringing Maya's blood sample into a tube, pipetting a small drop onto a microscope slide and peering at it intently.

He was muttering to himself, too, under his breath, a string of words that made no sense said out loud together but were all logically linked in the geneticist's mind.