"Pfftt, yaaachh!" Michael wiped the gross black stuff he could only assume was blood off his face. At least it didn't seem to be acidic or anything like that near as he could tell. He hoped he wasn't going to catch something from this. "Gross" He muttered under his breath. At least he had his precious samples now, and possibly a dead demon.
He turned to the driver with a weak smile, "See, they're uh, well I told you they were doing it wrong". He swapped back to the handgun to count the number of rounds in the magazine. He knew as long as they survived this, he wouldn't have to fight any longer and he'd probably collapse from exhaustion.