"Oh, for goodness' sake," she snaps, "How many people are going to skin themselves today?"

"Glad't's routine fer you," I says, still breathin' hard. "Wuz my first time." Least's far's I c'n remember. I kick th'skin 'way from m'feet. See't's come way perfect, like if'n't wuz taken off witta knife rather'n by rubbin'.

"Are you alright?"

"Think so," I says. Feel slimy'n dirty from th'fat'n blood, an' th'air's bloody cold wit' jest'is thin human skin 'tween me'n it. But feel good, otherwise. Pain's gone. Take stock'a m'self. Don't quite...look th'way she duz. Fingers'n toes gotta thin skin'a webbin' stretchin' 'tween'em. An'I c'n feel't m'teeth ain't changed; still sharp 'n jagged'n m'mouth. But overall seem healthy 'nough. I stand, a li'l wobbly, an' pick m'sealskin up. "So where'd you come from, anyway?"