It's a testament to Martin's recent ordeal that he goes with 'by what' instead of 'by whom.' Or perhaps the apparent presumption that John sustained all of his scars at once makes 'by what' the inevitable question. Christ, he can barely even imagine what sort of thing could have done all this to him in one go without killing him outright.

"Ah. No," he says, dropping his gaze to the cat in his lap. "I, er, I got most of these back in London, actually. And not... all at once." He considers the possibility of a full recounting with a frown; aside from his own disinterest in going over every misadventure, he doesn't want to upset Martin with such a miserable load of exposition when he's already reeling. Here's what you have to look forward to, and it starts with more bloody worms. Christ.

"I do have a scar from that particular incident, too," he says instead, lifting his gaze and nodding subtly at the spot where Martin's fingers rest against his jumper. "But it's... well." He drops his gaze again, and breathes a soft, sardonic gust of laughter. "A bit lost in the shuffle, I suppose. At any rate, it was, erm. It was just a man. And he’s gone, now."