"'I can resist anything but temptation', some author whose name escapes me said that," Wesker replies with a smirk. "Given some time to adjust to this world and to study the figurative board, I may reconsider the matter. Either way, I still owe you for the support you gave me. Once my strength returns, consider it yours to call upon.

He raises a pale eyebrow. "The color of my blood... If you so insist." He looks around for something sharp, a stone or a rough bit of driftwood. Finding a bit of the latter with an especially sharp and splintered end, he carefully cuts the outside of the back of his forearm.

The blood that gently oozes from the cut has an olive green tint flecked with the usual red. A poisonously sweet sent like the aroma of lilies rises from the cut. "Huh?" he can't help staring a bit and sniffing, trying not to wrinkle his nostrils. "Stairway to the Sun... It's a species of lily in my world of origin."