It won't do you any good, Lazarus. Your life hangs by a tiny thread, and it would only take a flick of Damon's wrist to sever it.

"Is that why you launch head first into death at every opportunity?" He muses aloud, tone both bored and wistful. "What a peculiar way to show gratitude to those who strive to protect you. Not that it matters to me, I simply tire of the whining." Now the sword points at Lazarus, the challenge clear.

"Make your move, shepherd. Perhaps I'll take you and spare the flock, but then... why should I?"

In other words your death here would be meaningless, Lazarus. How does that make you feel?