The alchemist nodded - that made sense. It also showed that John didn't particularly care to make the cut himself, which Nevin couldn't exactly blame him for. Most people had mental blocks, even subconscious ones, about doing injury to themselves. It was after all, pretty counterintuitive to the normal desire to keep oneself healthy. The smith didn't even seem to have considered making the incision himself from what Nevin saw there. No matter, really, the Alchemist didn't mind doing the bloody work himself.

So he nodded again, and pressed the tip of the scalpel against the spot that John had indicated. “So, how did you meet Fenn?” He smiled up at the larger man, trying to distract him as he waited a few heartbeats. It wouldn't do for the outcast nobleman to tense up when he tried to make the cut, so talking about their mutual acquaintance was a way of taking the smith’s mind off of the blade against his skin. The blood mage waited until John was opening his mouth to reply - and then made a small, quick incision, slicing through the first few layers of flesh.

Blood quickly welled up around the blade of the scalpel, and Nevin quickly moved it out of the way. The scalpel fell onto the somewhat cluttered counter, forgotten by the blood mage as he was already working his magic. The blood from the wound wasn't leaking onto John’s arm like it normally would have - it was being pulled up, and away, swirling into the air as a portion was tugged from the smith’s body. Nevin’s left hand was hovering near the spiraling ball of blood, as his right went for one of the empty bowls under his counter. The bowl was set on the table, and the blood was directed into it.

Once the crimson life fluid was in the bowl, Nevin grabbed up a small cloth and pressed it to the wound he had made, stemming the flow of blood. He did this absently, automatically and clearly without paying attention to it - no, the blood mage’s attention was firmly locked on the bowl. His skin was dancing, shivering to a tune only he could hear. John’s blood sang of power and potential, of strength and vigor. And - there was a darker taint to it, a foul, harsh note that spoke of something else. Rarely did Nevin need to study blood, his usual method was simply to use the life force in the blood to enhance one of its qualities. But that wasn't what the fallen noble needed, wanted. He wanted to know what the blood container.

So Nevin let go of the rag he was using to stem the cut, and placed both hands on the counter by the bowl. The blood within the wooden container began to churn, spinning and swirling faster as the blood mage focused upon it. Nevin’s senses fell away, the sounds of the city disappearing, the feel of the wooden counter beneath his palms leaving him, the smells of sweat, iron, and plants that filled the shop fading. Even sight left, his world narrowing down to the bowl, and the blood.

A litany of man, generations of humans in cold reinforcing the power steeped in the blood, filled Nevin’s mind. But Nevin could feel, that these men were different, that something more was further back. So he dove further, his dark eyes closing as he let his magic flow through the blood. There was a strain, a note of something else that echoed on and on through the bloodline -

“You, sir, had a VERY adventurous ancestor.” Nevin had found the source of the odd echo - a new line introduced into the blood, thick at first but fading over time, only to surge forth once more over and over through the generations. Definitely non-human, and not divine. Nevin wrenched his focus out of the deep secrets of the blood line, the world around him coming back into focus as he blinked and looked up to John. “Many, many generations ago, a male ancestor of yours apparently managed to entice a giantess into your his bed, and his life. You are part of an upsurge of that heritage - it seems, feels, that every so often the giant blood rebounds, and those born under its influence are… Larger.” He frowned and looked down at the bowl.

“But there's something else. Something in your blood that isn't in others. A.. Foul thing. You're lucky you have the giant blood thicker in your veins - it is helping you against this taint. But not sure what it is.” The alchemist’s frown deepened as he stared at the bowl, trying to figure out what the foulness in John’s blood was.