The scratch is concerning, but it's definitely no bite, and Raph doesn't seem to be worried about it. Not that that last one is particularly comforting. And with all of the gunk they've been exposed to today...Leo sighs and reaches for the soap dish against the wall, grabbing the bar of soap and handing it to Raph. "Wash it out. The last thing we want is you getting an infection."

He's feeling pretty clear-headed now, but he's still cold and aching. Leo takes an extra minute or two to scrub the last remnants of gore from his person. Especially the back of his head, which lets loose jelly-like clumps of dark blood that turn the water pink as it circles down the drain.

He's quiet for a moment, neck cricked back against the palm pressing at it. "We have to do the windows too," he mutters. "And then we'll check the network. Maybe someone's already come up with a way to fight them effectively."