[ The hall of mirrors... they'll have to remember that for later. It's true that he hardly seems injured, though — without any obvious signs of blood, his refined posture and overall composed nature make it hard to think anything is wrong, really. With a quiet nod, they accept his answer and don't say much else - not until they've actually made it to the small set of supplies. ]

As long as your hands aren't wounded... it should be fine... but you really don't have to help me. [ It's the last thing they're worried about before taking a seat at the table set out for them, resting their injured arm on the table, but still covering the wound itself. ] My blood is... well, it's dangerous for other people to get near... if they have open wounds. That's why I asked...

[ Maybe that will be an acceptable enough explanation? They don't want to freak him out, but also, they genuinely don't want him to catch the adverse effects their blood can inflict on others, since he's taking so much time out of his day to show them mercy. It's why they're hesitant to touch anything in the basket before them with their blood stained hand, letting it leave their wound to show him the extent of the spill. The palm of heir hand looks sticky with something the same consistency as blood, but the color's all wrong - it's dark, like tar. ]

I don't want you to get hurt from it, is all. Or for anyone else to...

[ The words are shy but very genuine - probably the most firm thing he's heard them say. ]