So the silver test was bullshit. The food he's eaten sits heavy in his stomach, as it does with the news that follows. No cure. Jim's gaze drops to the table, and he takes a deep breath. Okay. He can... he can deal with this. Somehow.

No point in dancing around it. "I got bit. And transformed." He raises his eyes to meet hers, not sure what he's looking for. Reassurance, maybe. A plea for help from someone who doesn't really know how to ask. "I don't know if it was just... there, or not."