They were looking down another long hall and there were thundering footsteps echoing from all around them, or so it seemed. Tony's chest was heaving until he jostled his battery and closed his eyes, trying to time his breaths and slow his hammering heart, bruising his lungs. If he had Extremis, he'd know exactly how many heartbeats he had left. At least he would know when he was going to die. His head was buzzing.
"I'll know it when I see it," was the only answer Tony had for the kid. It was belatedly that he realized the importance of his fucking heart should have been reason enough to linger, and he added, "About the size of my fist, central to my survival, was kind of attached to it." He illustrated with a fist knocked against Billy's chest before releasing him and wrapping the sheet securely around himself to start down the hall. The only game plan he had was to kick in doors and see what happened. If he had Extremis, he'd know exactly...His head was buzzing.