The Butcher of Anderson Station (The Expanse, #1.5)

by James S.A. Corey

Fred’s vacuum-rated armor protected him from the smell of viscera, but it reported it to him as a slight increase in atmospheric methane levels. The stench of death reduced to a data point.

You’re like the guy who delays replacing his airlock seals when they start to leak. You think it’s just a little bit. It doesn’t matter.

Remind me of anyone?