[It feels oddly heavy for something so small, and as Ford pulls away the paper it will be clear why: it's a knife. A folding pocket knife, the kind with a spring mechanism that flips it open. Its handle is also inlaid with--]

I figured if you were so keen to sample my blood I ought to just give in. Now you aren't allowed to ask me for it again in future. This is what you get, and we're square.

[It's obviously something Fiddleford made himself; it's got that at once scrappy and kind of ornate look that he tends toward. The blade is only about as long as a finger but then, it's not meant to be a weapon so much as a tool. A pocket knife can do a lot if you're creative, and Fiddleford knows Ford is creative.]

Funny you mention magic because it has a little bit in it. You push the switch forward one click to open it, twice to heat the blade. You could use it to solder somethin' if you really wanted, or to cauterize a wound the next time you do somethin' stupid.