Zoe's watching him, wishing there were some kind of way to know what she wants without having to get overly familiar with the man.

"Washburne, Zoe. Replied to your email today about the blood sample," she says as she shakes his hand. Her grasp is firm, not delicate. She's tall, and even in the gorram dumb sweats, she's still got plenty of attitude in her posture and tone.

"How long until we know anything?" Her eyes flick to the microscope, then back to him.