[Hangs up the phone, fumbling to get it into his pocket. Nervous? You bet. That smell. It's not hard to imagine how he could end up as just another smear on the floor.

Very slowly, very carefully, moving his hand around his field of vision to wipe the sweat from his brow. Now is not the time to panic. His hand might be shaking, but he isn't done yet. Is it sad that the one thing that flashes before his eyes is not his life, but instead all the time and paperwork involved with replacing him? What sort of life is that?]

SCP One Seven Three. Of... of all the ways I imagined, dreamed, of dying. Falling victim to you was not one of them.