"No, it was abandoned, that was why we chose it. Me and the client." Arthur twisted about half an inch and put an arm against his chest to point at a pile of rubble about half a yard away. "He's under that." The available beam from her flashlight might light up the still and white form of a human arm under most of the ceiling. Arthur wasn't exactly choked up; he had himself to worry about, and though his speech was clipped it wasn't alarmed or slurred. He'd put his body through far too much to have a little thing like a building falling on top of him put him into shock.
"It's on my left leg. My right one is free and I can move all my toes, and I've been down here long enough where I would have bled out an hour ago if the bone broke the skin. I think the blood is his." Arthur, too, knew what blood smelled like.