[ he is, save for where he managed to slice the palm of his hand open on the ice clinging to the trunk of the tree. he's staring at it in open alarm, unaccustomed to being rendered unable to heal himself. that, perhaps, is more unsettling than the lifeless crystal in his pocket and being unable to transform. ]
Yes, I'm fine. [ he stands up, seeing to wrapping his hand with a handkerchief he had in his pocket. ] It's nothing.