He could do this [narrative]
Run. Run and don't look back. Run, don't look back, and don't fall. Run, don't look back, don't fall, and don't get bitten. Run, don't look back, don't fall, don't get bitten, and-
Dr. Simon Tam hadn't been in this sort of situation before; it wasn't everyday that someone he might have been interested in was trying to eat him. It also wasn't everyday that he had to be Mal; Simon wasn't much for the action heroics, but he had to do something to keep alive. The trip to Lecter's office was fraught with dangers, and the good doctor had to overcome every obstacle. The first was finding a weapon, say like a fire ax. The second was dealing with a zombie, say like chopping said zombie with aforementioned fire ax. The third was fighting off another zombie without falling. It went on and on. He was a doctor, dammit, not a superhero.
It wasn't until he found the first headless corpse that he realized he had gone round in a circle. "What? It's not like she's here to watch...shit." A zombie jumped out of a vending niche and nearly bit him. Simon's ax aiming wasn't the best, so he was soon minus one ax by the time he was running again.
He was sure his heart would burst, and he made a vow to whatever was holy that he would definitely take better care of himself if he just got through this in one piece. Panting, he crashed into Hannibal's office door, and groaning, he picked himself off the floor after the rebound. He really was going to need to work out, build muscle. Soon, with a little bit of fumbling he was inside. He locked the door, only after making sure the only dead thing in the room was the monkey.
"You've caused a mess. If we were smart, we'd have gotten rid of you." Simon was talking to the monkey, and he really didn't care that he was. His sanity wasn't in question because he was rather certain it had flown out the window when he started dancing on the street.
Once he had calmed himself enough to empty his pockets, he pulled the samples out and set them on the main work counter. As he put them in order, mainly parallels to each other, he noticed the note. "Right. Last syringe."
He looked around the room, found the cabinet, and was not surprised but slightly disappointed to find it locked. He didn't panic; he refused to panic now. So, he started looking. He pulled out drawers that weren't locked; he moved papers and opened books. He did everything he could, finding nothing. With a sigh, he looked down at the notebook that'd been left behind; maybe he could find the answer he needed in there rather than the cabinet. Actually, he found the key; it was a small lump in the binding, and he didn't waste time in slitting it open with his ever trusty scalpel.
"Last syringe." Unlocked cabinet, claimed syringe, Simon set to work; he had to duplicate it, test it, and get it out there. He could do this; he just needed time, something he didn't exactly have much of right now.