Donnie eased himself into a crouch, feeling all sorts of stiff and hating every step of the short distance he crabwalked to get beside Tony. While the man worked on his bandages, the turtle rubbed at the bare skin between his purple kneepads and anklewraps, but cold hands made little difference in warming him up.

He froze at the sounds, eyes flicking back towards the way they'd come and anxiously towards the shadowy ceiling. Did those things find them?