He isn't terribly fond of admitting weaknesses, but - well, perhaps Jason deserves to know why he so carefully probes the snow before each step. One of his slender limbs lifts and folds back in a way that would be impossible if the joints were encapsulated in muscle and tendon. He taps it very gently against the thickness of his back, and the slender limb shatters into wicked edged shards. They break again and again as they fall through him, and crunch as he catches them to re-incorporate their scant mass.

If he falls, Jason is going to be surrounded by those. A happy thought.

Metody's head ripples, then hangs down again. Yes. They already discussed this. There's only him.

- technically, there are others within his category. They can't technically be termed his fellows because one of their points of similarity is that they are like nothing else. Another is that they are exceedingly rare - only one or two born a generation - and a third is that, in the unlikely event of two of them meeting, an almighty fight inevitably breaks out.

So he is alone. And in a city like this, he is absolutely unique. Hooray. What joy it is to be special.

His head lifts at Jason's musing. He has considered that as well, and has actually come up with an approach that might be helpful, but he hasn't had the time to experiment and -

- and - and he can't exactly say that to Jason. And how the heck does he mime it? Frustrated, he taps the man's wrist, where his bracelet is hidden under his insulating layers.

There. You can find out there. Sort of, maybe, kind of, possibly. There!