Honestly, it's a pretty good infirmary, considering it's in the refurbished back-office of what used to be some kind of diner. There's a cot on either wall, of the simple, uncomfortable kind that you find in a school nurse's office, and there are shelves with stacks of medical supplies, extra blankets, and several boxes of cast-off sweaters, sweatpants, and socks. Steve has been pretty conscientious, gathering things.

"If there's anything here you think would be more useful for the Nexus-wide triage unit, you can take it," Steve says. "Just leave some of the antiseptic and bandages for us here."

He sits on the cot and works on undoing the handkerchief as if he hopes his sight will be miraculously restored already underneath it. Well, given how fast he usually heals, it's not that crazy a hope.

He pauses, eyes half-open and unseeing still, and blinks at nothing when Horvath makes his proclamation. "Cursed. Are you serious?"

He's not alarmed by it, not half as alarmed as he should be, but he's a little skeptical. As he listens to the further explanation, though, it starts to make more sense. Yeah, there are plenty of somethings beyond the ordinary out there.

"Why me?" He wonders aloud. "What did I do?"

Probably Horvath doesn't have an answer to that question.