"Odd Day for the Glasses Man"

Clade walked underground. The access sewer was well-maintained and unreasonably large, with branching hallways and old rooms converted to housing and secret cabal meeting places. Demon worshippers, rave kids, and fugitives fought their own turf battles here, but he didn't care about any of that. His job at hand was the future.
His stomach twisted in knots when he entered the cave system. It ached and flip-flopped. He stopped walking and looked at it, his stomach. Fine. Shook his head, kept moving.
Clade reached the Valve, saw the remains of an organic pod. He copied and cut that out. Looked around for her.
But she wasn't there.
He checked his watch. Fine. Right on time, like always.
"Hmm," he said, and it filled the cave.
He removed his sunglasses, and as he did, his skin came alive with itching so powerful he couldn't help but scratch. He stopped himself, though, before he did any real damage, yet he incurred some superficial cuts and scrapes that he edited out.
"The fuck," he said, and it echoed through the cave.
A stain formed in the sand, dark brown.
He put his sunglasses back on and knelt by it, examined it.
"What the fuck," he said.
It was his blood, clearly. Plain to his eyes behind the glasses.
He removed them again, then touched the wet sand, brought it to his nose. Smelled fine. To his tongue. Tasted fine.
"This is very odd," he said.
Clade rose and looked around for her again. She's not there.
"This. Is very fucking odd."
He looked into the pool and saw the orb was intact.
Clade put the glasses on once more and made his way back to the surface, all the while mumbling, "So very odd."