"What?"

Jon stares at him, for a moment, uncomprehending. Then it clicks, and he looks at his hand in one startled flinch, looks at the napkin dirtied with bubblegum blood.

"Oh! Oh, it's— that's Deerington. It's, uh, temporary. Yours probably looks the same."

Because that's reassuring. He casts around for something less horrible to say, finds nothing, settles on the truth.

"This place... plays tricks on us. I-it's not so bad some months, but others, um. Others are... strange."