"I'll be fine," he still sounded a bit winded, but the fact that he had a gigantic gash in his middle seemed to be the least of his problems. "Grandfather Clock isn't so foolish as to make His servants fragile."

While the dark liquid seeping from the wound just beneath his ribs was hard to distinguish from the dark fabric of his clothes, the stuff seeping from the cut on his forehead was obviously not blood. It was oil.