Will's barometer for measuring what is and isn't strange has always obeyed laws that he doesn't fully understand. With the memory of how Dolarhyde's blood tasted still fresh in his mind, it's safe to say that any idiosyncrasies in Terry's behaviour go unnoticed (for now).

"Will Graham," he introduces himself shakily between one uneven step and the next. He pulls his shabby cloak more securely around himself, and in the process ends up stumbling over a loose cobblestone. He doesn't loose his footing, but it's a near thing--and a painful one, without shoes on.