It was...

Ben looked at his leg, reached down, and tore off the bandage. There was blood patterned on it, from a half moon shape of a mouth cut that had bled onto the bandage, but the skin was now fine - not a trace of a bite. "Drunk I was, to be sure," Ben said, a new composure finding him, "feared I was for what may come. I didn't see it, couldn't feel it coming from the drink, but something tells me it was that thing."

To Margot's surprise, Ben stood, like he'd only been resting. He offered her a gentlemanly hand assisting her to rise. Her gaze on him was unmistakable. "I look... different, don't I?"

She could only nod in shock.

"Well... nothing lasts forever and I feel like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. And in all honestly, I haven't felt this good in years. If you'll excuse me, I should wash, the muck of the mud must make me look an awful sight."

He kept her hand in his and rested his other on it for a moment. "I appreciate your concern and for seeing to me."

He let her hand go and headed off.

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