"Bloody terrible, isn't it? Damn, truth really likes to sink its claws in." Molly pulls himself to his feet and uses the broom to help him. "But, nice to confirm that blood doesn't usually do that. Damned if I knew how I did it." But blood was involved. He looks at the broom and swings it. The ice stays there.

"Huh. This could prove useful if we get into trouble." He plants the broom and lays it up against the side of the building. "I could take it with us or leave it. Brooms aren't my weapon of choice." He grins, then shakes his head. "Anyway, yes, I was trying to remember why I felt nostalgic about being in danger."