Still restless with anger, and warm from the sun, he rolls up his shirtsleeves. There are a number of scars on his arms, including some particularly ragged and still pink ones on the right from the undead dog (and torn stitches as they healed). "Personal advice? You're not in need of reformation, but... yes. You should seek him out."
He sighs, willing himself to relax and release the emotions. Farrow was a useful man to speak with, but like so many of his agents and allies the man is gone from his own world. He will have to rely on his meditative training to get over the recent incident.