Logan glared over at Ford just seconds before he pulled back a fist and conked him up the side of the head hard enough to make his head bounce off the wall next to them, effectively knocking him out. He humphed as he watched the frail man drop unconscious to the floor and looked at his own fist. He sometimes still forgot just how hard adamantium was, even encased in a fleshy fist. "Damn," he muttered to himself and grimaced at the body at his feet. He let out a long-suffering groan as he bent down to pick the man up and drape him over his shoulders like a deer corpse.
He snarled at himself as he opened the door one-handed and kicked it close, all the while balancing dead weight on his back. He carried Telford down to the infirmary to tend to his cut, and now bruise and possible concussion, ignoring the curious or slightly scared looks from the people who saw him go by.