If this man is acting this nonchalant, he can hardly have spotted the wolf. Faolan realizes how he sounds. He realizes how the other man is treating him. He's honestly not certain whether he cares in this moment or not, of course. He runs a hand over his face, sucking in deep breaths and trying to keep himself steady, keep himself from passing out or being sick or god knows how many other embarrassing things he might wind up doing if he doesn't settle himself.

"Yes," he says honestly, because it's true. It was following him, and yes, it had injured him. "Some of it anyway. There was a..." God, he can't say werewolf, then he'd really sound like a lunatic. "A wolf. It was chasing me. I thought the crowd would help it lose me. If you didn't see it..." Then maybe it had worked. He certainly didn't hear any screaming, anyway. Faolan runs a hand over his face and only realizes too late that it's bleeding, giant claw marks running down the length of his arm. It had been a close call. A little too close, if he was being honest with himself.