It's the first mention of Mary's husband that John can recall, and though he does not press her on further details at the moment, he stores that away in his mind for future reference.

John curls his better hand around the tea cup, moving to rest it on his knee as he waits for the water to cool.

Playing with the teacup in his good hand, John considers the thought, before glancing up to her with a sudden half-grimace.

"Ah," he says. "No, I do believe they did have it, now that I recall. But the nature of my injuries were such that I was not allowed to have it." He smiles, somewhat sheepishly. It would seem that he is the sort to find himself injured rather often.

"Your husband and I have that in common," he indicates. "Fighting in a war. One of our canon had a weak spot, and I had the misfortune to be commanding it when that canon happened to explode. I managed to keep my arm by catching the brunt of the shrapnel in my chest. I suppose they were afraid to compromise my breathing any further than it already was, I can't say. For better or worse, I can't say I recall too much about the event, or the next several months for that matter."