Handy sat there, his shield arm crossing his lap as he worked on something behind it that neither the pony nor the dragon could see. You see, there was a lot for him to be nervous about the situation. Normally he could control himself, but when one tries to suppress a supernaturally motivated yet very rational and instinctive fear of burning to death at the slightest spark, it tended to be a mite bit harder. Therefore, he mitigated it by cannibalising the flags and banners of the arena that had not yet succumbed to the flames, wrapping them around his arm and stuffing them in between the straps of his shield to cover the exposed flesh of his left forearm, as well as trying to cover the gap in his back armour so kindly gifted to him by Ferix.