New threads. Marcel puts that on the list in the back of his mind. Maybe the next person he bites, if they are his size.

It'll be fine. No permanent harm, no real foul.

He squeezes Sam's hand firmly. He has a good handshake, confident, dry. A little cool, but it is winter out here, and the calluses are contoured across the heel and inside of his knuckles in a pattern that Sam might recognize as those of a warrior's of some sort. He lets go. "I'll leave you to your practice," he says. "Best of luck."