"Oh- no, please I-" Jonathan finds himself stammering somewhat, an uncommon thing for him. If anything he is often wordy- speaking too much without pause, trailing on tangents that seem unrelated to what's at hand.

But it's simply such a grim thing to explain. A thing he keeps wanting to forget, and then failing to forget. The sensation as the blood dries after all, is hardly comfortable. The feeling formal clothing has in an environment such as this, so different from the crisp air of the ship in February, is another.

The man sighs, and tries to brush the matter aside. "It is a wound already restored, I assure you- what caused this blood is no longer here."