[ with a pinched expression on his face, he sets himself down in a chair. This is gonna hurt. But a lot's happened this morning, and the pain just means he's still alive, he supposes. He'd rather have a stab wound in his leg than be human chili spilled all over the floor of the viewing station. ]

Oh, yeah... I guess a samurai would know that kind of thing. [ well, time to start alcoholing his wound. he rolls up one pantleg to reveal a fairly nasty-looking gash on his lower leg. ] This is shaping up to be one hell of a day. That old guy that lives in my room, Dickson... He was dead when I woke up.