The way she flinched away tore at Nevin, and stoked the fury in his gut. He knew, knew that she had had bad memories of a situation painfully similar to this - she had told him! - and still he had acted without thinking. He wanted to curse himself for the utter idiot he was, but that was not what needed to happen now. She seemed apologetic enough, ducking her head towards him, but still, the damage had been done. Crimson help him, he was dumb. She pulled away, retracting her arm and nearly falling over in the process, and she had questions that he did not want to answer, but needed to. A long sigh escaped him and he ran his fingers along his chest, feeling them catch on the raised lines of blood that ran across his skin.

"Whoever they are, these morons were looking for -" Whistling from behind him, coming down the hallway, and Nevin cursed. "I'm going to back up to the edge of the cage, until the patrol passes." The whistling individual came into his gaze, the man who had tossed him in here it looked like. The 'guard' was spinning a key ring on an outstretched finger, his other hand resting on an oak club that was hanging from a belt-loop. The man paused when he saw Nevin staring at him with one dark eye, and smirked, jangled the keys in his direction, and turned around and walked away, still whistling. The blood mage waited until he had heard a door close down the hallway, cutting off the whistled tune, before slipping back across the cell floor to Stare.

"Right then. These men were apparently snagging red-headed alchemists from over Corone, according to what the man who seems to be in charge said. But they were looking for me specifically - they recognized me..." Nevin took a deep breath, rubbing his bare skin in aggravation. "They recognized me by what the men thought of as 'tattoos'. They.. they recognized me by the lines along my skin." Nevin sank down, his body dropping into a slump as he finally admitted it out loud, what he had been doing his best to avoid even thinking about. If someone knew enough to send bounty hunters - bounty hunters! After him! looking for him using the blood on his skin as the means to identify him... they had to know the lines existed in the first place. And that was a painfully small list - one of the only people on it was sitting in the cell across from him, and had a direct line to another. No... if someone knew and had sent bounty hunters after Nevin... it was a survivor. "It's got to be a survivor of that bloody cult. I thought all of those people had died..." The words escaped his lips in a disbelieving tumble, taking more energy from him, leaving the alchemist shaking in disbelief. He didn't know how long he sat there, feet away from one of the few people he called friend, shaking at that thought.

Finally he stirred, refocusing his eye on Stare. He had told her that - no, no he hadn't. He had gotten distracted asking about her eyes, and then she offered her blood, and he had never gotten to explain the last of the abilities he had had at the time. If he wasn't so shaken from the revelation he had just had, Nevin might have laughed. "No... no, nothing so exotic as that. I was carrying some acidic blood essence on me when I was grabbed - I hope the hunters don't try to drink it... or no, I hope they do." Nevin's tone was vicious as he said that. "But that wasn't what I was referring to. As long as I have blood, I have a weapon, Avis. I got distracted from finishing my explanation that night." He took a deep breath. "Given enough free blood - or my own, considering I won't resist it - I can create temporary constructs out of a quantity of blood. A hammer and dagger, to break the chains, for example. Or..." His eyes glimmered in the light as he shot his gaze over his shoulder in the direction the guard had gone. "Or, a dagger to kill that bastard to grab the keys from him. He knows I have no weapons, and I can fake being weak well enough. Your call, though the keys might have the key to get that damnable blindfold off of you. Either way though, I need to bleed. As for where we are - major port in Corone, I wasn't out for more than an hour at worst. Not long enough to take us to another city. I was trying to book passage in the general direction of a place called Lindequalme? When they snagged me." He sat back, running one hand over the swelling around his eye, then to the gash on the side of his face. It wasn't deep, and nowhere near enough blood had escaped to be useful. Damn.