He didn't have too long to ponder that line of thought, for Ferix was moving. The dragon turned and held himself off of the ground with his good arm and good leg. His wings flared and then thrust downwards, sending the dragon into the air as he flew away on powerful wingbeats, his injured jaw opening and fire bursts flaming outward through the canopy of black smoke as he disappeared behind it. "Oh no you don't," Handy said under his breath. Now recovered and more than a little pissed, he ran. He lunged upwards and landed in the stands, the wood cracking and splintering beneath him as he continued sprinting up the stands, leaping and bounding up the tiered seats until he reached the top, vaguely in the direction where Ferix was flying. Then he leaped.