Lazarus' 28th birthday has dawned red and furious, with so many things he's built on hours of sweat and toil up in flames. While there's truly only so much he can do as one scrawny young man with an ice stave but no magic of his own, he's determined to try, determined to do something to protect the people he convinced to come here. For safety's sake, for peace's sake.
His own home isn't burning yet. He wrenches open the door, making his way to the kitchenette and throwing the ingredients onto the counter in a haphazard sprawl. All of ten seconds are devoted to assembling a sandwich in haste, slapping it onto a plate, and holding it there as he runs back out into the street and sprints toward the newest burning structure. When he gets there and sees the silhouette of someone who looks completely identical to Tony, he knows he's found his man.
"I heard you were invited," he calls, making a concentrated effort to keep any kind of waver out of his voice as he holds out the sandwich. "We try to be good hosts here if nothing else. Let's talk about this. Please," he adds, relaxing his hold on the ice stave, eyes wide in his pale face.
Closed
His own home isn't burning yet. He wrenches open the door, making his way to the kitchenette and throwing the ingredients onto the counter in a haphazard sprawl. All of ten seconds are devoted to assembling a sandwich in haste, slapping it onto a plate, and holding it there as he runs back out into the street and sprints toward the newest burning structure. When he gets there and sees the silhouette of someone who looks completely identical to Tony, he knows he's found his man.
"I heard you were invited," he calls, making a concentrated effort to keep any kind of waver out of his voice as he holds out the sandwich. "We try to be good hosts here if nothing else. Let's talk about this. Please," he adds, relaxing his hold on the ice stave, eyes wide in his pale face.