He nods again, watching Elian remove the large sword from its covering. It's not a bomb, and that's good enough for him to venture drawing nearer; though he wears steel-toed boots, his steps are light and careful. He crouches nearby, laying his ice staff at his side and tilting his head and squinting at the blue-tinted metal.

"A lot of pulses aren't just what they seem..." he says, raising a hand to chew on an already-ragged thumbnail. A close and observant eye will catch a glimpse of black ink; Lazarus' Numbers are tattooed on the palm of his left hand.