[Ed looks down at the wound like he's seeing it for the first time. Then, after a couple more seconds, he shivers, because all the bewilderment, shock and roiling anger in the world can't hold off the freezing rain forever. Very slowly, he slumps back into something close to a sitting position.]

...What did you do to it? [He asks the question hesitantly. Under the circumstances, he'd think where and how would be more pressing questions; not that he's an expert, but he's fairly sure stabbing someone to death doesn't normally cause them to wake up alive in the middle of some city far, far away from Central. So why don't they seem more pressing to him? And... why is he so sure this isn't Central?

On impulse, he grabs his own right glove and tugs at it. It comes away more easily than he was expecting. The hand underneath is definitely the one he remembers, though - that inelegant replacement he fused to the end of his arm after losing a chunk of it, fingers and palm slightly out of proportion, dull grey like a factory floor. No answers there.]

So is this the other side, or... [This time the look he gives Snow is more urgent than hostile.] Listen, are you an alchemist? And what's this place called? It's important.