Lukas sighs and holds up his hands, as if to say "don't shoot the messenger."<br/><br/>"Do I look like an alchemist to you, Tam?" With a sigh, Lukas gingerly tests the edge of the blade, and once again he feels that numbness seeping through his fingers. "All I know is that it's making my fingers go ta sleep just touchin' it. I can't be sure if that means that it's just something that would put you to sleep, or if it's something that would cause your body to just... go quiet."<br/><br/>Frustrated, and all thoughts of relaxing and soaking out the chill from their travels temporarily gone, the knife-wielder throws the blade as hard as he can against the wall, watching the strange point sink into the wood.<br/><br/>"Fuckin' hell. A miserable trip, and the first chance to put our feet up and just sleep gets ruined by some weird gray shithead who wanted to try and stab you head on." Without waiting for a response from his companion, the rogue stands and stalks from the room, wrenching the dagger free of the wall as he does so. A moment later, the door slams behind him, and he's off back down the stairs...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>At least two hours pass before the door opens again, admitting the thoroughly drenched "Dagger-dare," along with two bowls of soup. He still seems completely and utterly frustrated... but at least now he seems to have calmed down a bit. Without a word, he sets both bowls down on top of an empty table and squelches down into a chair, grabbing his portion and practically chugging it down.<br/><br/>"Nobody had a damned clue what was on the knife. And the more I went into the rain, the less of the stuff that stayed on it. I ended up leaving it with a blacksmith as scrap."