"Huh. Wait-- scents?"

Has he been stinking up the place this entire time without even knowing it? Wade puts his fork down, taking a moment to not-so-surreptitiously sniff under his armpit. Nothing strikes him as particularly pungent, save for a slight odor of blood and gunpowder that he's never been able to get out of his clothing. This guy must have the DNA of a bloodhound or something, to smell a disease like that.

"Uhh... soooo what does it smell like, then? In the interest of science, or whatever."