The man, if that's what he was, groaned his displeasure at Izzy's insistence. "Stupid girl," he muttered, his anger apparently giving him some lucidity, "Hospital won't help... Don't have a pulse." He struggled a bit on the ground, actually managing to writhe about a foot closer to Izzy, mostly pushing himself with what little remained of his right arm. It was apparent now that the huge trail of blood had come from him dragging himself along the ground with only half a limb. His strength quickly ran out, though, and he collapsed back on the ground.

He looked up at Izzy, who was waving her walking stick threateningly. As though he posed a threat to her, no limbs and barely able to move. His gaze was intense, but his expression was somewhere between anger and trepidation. "It would be an honor..." The tone of his voice had softened a bit. Not much, but it was clear. "To be of my flesh and blood."