[his relief at discovering that he isn't about to lose his leg below the knee is palpable, but also short-lived. recalling one of his first conversations with another sleeper while thawing out on the boardwalk, he does remember discussion of blood, and blood corruption--but as for a convenient and helpful to that last question, he is drawing a blank.]

...I'm not sure. [admitting this brings an uncomfortable, chagrined crease to his brows, and he scratches pensively at his jaw before looking down at his discoloured knee again. hmm. wait--] Ah, I cut myself once accidentally while repairing the cottage I've claimed in the Trenchwood. I bled green, if that tells you anything.