He probably does need stitches but that's besides the point. The point is that there's a werewolf out there and that he isn't sure whether he got the vampire he was after or just some of his flunkies, and that he's been stopped by a police officer of all people. Just when he thought that he was finally out of the woods.

Faolan lets out a bark of a laugh that could easily be mistaken for a noise of pain, for the sheer lack of humor in the sound. "A police officer," he repeats, straightening to take a good look at the man. Eyeing his plainclothes and the dog at his side. Obviously not on duty then, but even the way he holds himself. The sheer earnest need to help him, considering the mess he knows he must look. "Of course you are."

Faolan heaves a heavy sigh. "Sure," he says, because what's the harm in letting him look at the scratches. Maybe he'd at least think his story a bit more credible for seeing them. "Be my guest."