You bled two pints over a Prophet idol that probably needed, like, a drop at most for the effect. You'll be fine. So long as the anemia doesn't get you. Remind me to prescribe you iron supplements when we stop.

[Back to Hannibal. Oh, were you threatening him. House is going to act like it doesn't bother him.]

Like Graham Cracker told you, we're in the skywalks. Industrial Zone. We're heading toward one of the office buildings where they set up a bunch of pyres and sacrificed people. Playing the good concerts and all that jazz.