"She doesn't have to come," Mohinder said without looking up, curls, no longer held in place with too much product and starting to frizz, fringing a shadow across his forehead and over his eyes. "I just need her blood. As much as she can spare. If the virus hasn't spread beyond Odessa, I should be able to cure those still alive with it and my own antibodies."

Mister moral high ground didn't feel the need to explain himself to Matt Parkman, but if Mohinder wanted the help, he would have to come clean. His atonement had already occurred in a hospital with a bag of Claire's blood and a feeling of loss of self. He really could do without Matt giving him another guilt inducing look-- The best way to avoid that now was to work at taking too much of his own blood to put on ice until Claire's could arrive.

He wet his lower lip again. The bile in his throat, unheeded by a decent meal in half a day, caused his nose to wrinkle slightly.

"You'll need to ask for it because I shot him." A good shot too for someone with few lessons-- Just a slip of a thought, but without any real back patting. "Claire's blood is...remarkable. But only if administered quickly and in large doses. Even to the dead. Five pints should do the trick here--"

Hopefully they wouldn't need that much. Mohinder didn't have five pints to spare himself.