The dragon did not care for being addressed as Pebble. Handy noticed the turn of its head downwards, spotting the gunk still blinding its eyes. His expression grew hard as he pressed the silver of the dagger’s tip just ever so much into the open sore on the neck. The dragon growled in pain and turned to face forward once more. Handy smiled grimly. He had guessed accurately—it was thinking of doing a roll to try to shake him off. That was not happening.