[He is looking at his hands when Clark speaks, and it jars him out of his thoughts. Where there was blood, it was gone.]

I- Maybe I didn't. [He looks back again. Nope. Just him. And he drags his hand down his face, ruffling the scruff on those hard Slavic angles. It's not baby smooth like he used to keep it, before he figured out it would grow back so quickly it was barely worth the effort.]

Yeah, maybe it is something in the water. I don't know. This is the first place I have worked for where I am pretty sure I cannot always trust my own head. [Or eyes. Or anything else.]

I am guessing you are crew? You don't have a fruit salad for a head, so probably.