"Ow! Mother of a—" A drop of blood squeezed from his fingertip as he waved it in agony, the tiny carmine sphere drifting through the air before landing square on an exposed control board.
The corridor's lights cut out.
"Shit," swore the engineer working on the components. A lamp came on, its beam waving wildly as she attached it to her head. "I thought that was the right one for sure."
He cracked a chemlight open—they never left his uniform's pockets—and stayed his rotation with a light foot tap. The headlamp jolted slightly at the sound and light before aiming quickly at the source. He removed the injured finger from his mouth, shielding his eyes from the glare. After a grunt, its owner turned back to her work. He blinked, trying to clear the afterimages from his vision in the monochrome green light from his chemlight, and looked toward the woman in bemusement before moving towards the door.
"Oi!"
He braked against the rail, more carefully this time. "What?"
"This yours?" The engineer pointed at something on a circuit board with a small screwdriver.
"Is what mine?"
"This spot here. Looks like blood, still wet too." The beam pointed at him again. "You trying to sabotage the station or something?"
"The hell are you on about?"
"Are you or are you not bleeding?"
"Yeah, I'm bleeding. Just cut myself on something on this handrail. But it's not like I aimed my blood at your precious electronics or whatever."
"Oh, aye, and I'm to believe that you just _accidentally_ cut yourself on a smooth rail, and then your blood _accidentally_ came over here, and then _accidentally_ shorted the lighting controller for the whole corridor."
"Smooth, my ass! Void-eaten thing's made of knives!"
"Waste heat! I come up here every couple of cycles and I've never cut myself on anything, accidentally or otherwise."
"Well, good for you."
"Quite, but you know what's not good for me? Your rad-soaked blood on this control board! I was just supposed to recalibrate the grav-plates, but now I have to go down to the stores and get a new one, 'cause I sure as hell ain't signing off on one you sabotaged."
"I did not sabotage it! You can take your asinine accusations on a long walk out the airlock." Angrily, he pulled his way through the door, landing dextrously on the (working) deckplates beyond.