Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lazarus nodded dumbly, not sure he could've formulated a reply even if he'd known what to say -- not with lungs that felt like they wouldn't inflate properly and the fear that he might really be having a heart attack. It was all he could do to try and hold what Quenton was saying in his head, to turn each of the phrases over and over, one word after another, as best he could remember them. There would be some hidden meaning. Always more games, more lessons. More reminders that Lazarus wasn't clever enough or strong enough or brave enough to run away

All Quenton's polite words sounded, to Lazarus, like more veiled threats that he couldn't understand, or maybe reproofs for whatever behavior on Lazarus's part he'd found lacking -- all couched in so much crisp politeness that it had to at least be sarcasm. Lazarus was behaving like he was losing his mind ( -- you are losing your mind! -- ), and people didn't generally respond to that sort of thing like they were just wrapping up their afternoon tea.

So -- too slow, too frozen in place to think of anything better -- he said nothing, only stared until Quenton was well on his way -- then wrapped his arms securely around his belongings, head still rattling dizzily, and started running back to Stroud's.

It wouldn't do to be late on top of everything else, after all. If his lungs gave out on the way and he collapsed and she had to come looking for him, he wanted to at least be able to show that he'd made an effort.