"I'm not worried," Charls said as he placed himself on the table, forearm ready for extraction. He handed it to Osias, almost mechanically but why fight something just to delay yourself? And why wait for instructions when you knew what to do to begin with?
"With your samples constantly aging, shouldn't that be enough to tell you to quicken your work?" he said it in a most curious manner that the acid behind it was almost -- but not quite -- concealed. He watched Osias work with the characteristic flat look on his face. "And shouldn't you have machines or techniques that preserve them for a longer time?" Unlike Osias, Charls did not know a lot about medical idiosyncrasies but he thought that his inquiry was rather sound. Technology was moving faster than the whole human and mutant race could ever hope to understand, after all.