[he smiles, though the expression is without mirth. that's everyone's first question, isn't it? or, well, most people's anyway. this place has proved him wrong that everyone will ask about the leg, first, but not by much]

[on the plus side, he's gotten a lot less resentful of the question. maybe because, with luck, he won't be permanently crippled for long. if nothing else, at least he's not getting actively worse here]

[but at any rate, after another mouthful of coffee, he answers:] A group of men were waiting for me, one night, when I got home from work. They broke both my legs, then beat me unconscious. I was in a coma for about a week.