"Near-discorporation." He smiles kindly as he corrects Ferran, but then sighs, pinching his brow.

"I wouldn't say a lot, necessarily..." It's been a lot. "A...a few, over the years. The millenia. One does run into hazards sometimes."

He's blessedly quiet for a moment, thinking, but it doesn't last long. "There was a bomb once, in a church. I was attempting a double-cross on these horrible Nazis. I'm afraid it wasn't going very well. And then..." But he trails off again, that same confused look coming into his eyes. The end of this story is as dim and hazy as the last, and he can't figure out why. "There was...someone dancing, with a hat..."