[With little hesitation, Bigby holds up his own hand. With a nip of a fang to his thumb, a bead of blood forms, a sickly green. It has always been this color, but it smells fragrant, horribly sweet. That part he still isn't used to.]

We Sleepers are reborn with various blood types. The blood ministers could tell you more truthfully, but you and I are not dissimilar. Mine is known as vileblood.

I'd say it does not make you less human than you appear, in my opinion.

[For her tale, he listens compassionately, frowning quietly. He supposes if he'd been delivered to the hands of scientists instead of the Church, the same would have occurred to him.]

And what makes you so monstrous to them?