Maybe if he weren't already cough-hacking his lungs up from the effort to keep up this pace - his respiratory system has never been fond of him, and the chain-smoking certainly didn't help - he would've snapped that her advice is so very helpful, because he was really thinking of slowing down right about now.

Right now, he's lucky he can still find the breath to continue. There's a branch diverting from the main artery they're tearing through now; he catches the corner with one hand and skids into it. It terminates in a door.

Maybe it's a way out. Maybe it's a dead end. Given the way that they're being pursued from all angles, do they really have a choice?

"Through - " he wheezes between gritted teeth. "Now!"