The shock on her face damn near mirrors his own, even though she's clearly had more time to figure out what the hell hers is, and where it came from. Jim suppresses a shudder at the thought of that place, but now he has to know. He has some kind of magic weirdness inside of his head, and he hasn't yet figured out what it's doing. If anything.

"My mémoire..." He waves a hand next to his head, like a thought that's flying away from him, and shakes his head. A good chunk of what happened after passing through the mirror is still little more than a blur, and what he does remember is nowhere near as pleasant as having a moon goddess lend a hand. There's only one thing he can think of, one transformative experience that left its mark on him physically, mentally... why not this, too?

He hesitates, not really sure how to explain. Jim moves his hand to touch his shoulder, as if protecting an injury. "Warwulf bit me. Mayhap...?"