O-oh. [ A timid reaction again at the first answer, followed by a nervous pause at the second. He stays where he stands, not daring to approach any further, and pulls the end of his dark staff in towards his boots. ]

You... don't know whose blood, do you? Are they alright? [ He doesn't hear anyone else in the room. Just his own heart in his ears and the subtle shifting of heavy fabrics on the other. Yet it feels like there is still another, watching. It's similar to the feeling of being on stage before a performance, when the audience has gone completely silent, only the silence goes on... and on... silent staring, staring...

He tries to push the building anxiety from his mind and refocus. There could be someone injured nearby. ]

If they should need a healer I can- [ He stops himself again, remembering how attempting to cast a simple cantrip in the mist hadn't worked earlier. Of mists and ghosts and calm-voiced strangers and bloody bulletin boards, the loss of magic is the most terrifying thing about this place so far. His voice drops to almost a whisper. ]

Actually I don't think I would be of much help with that right now.