"Blonde," the doppelganger offers, as she leaves the thought hanging. Lazarus responds to his hand being grabbed with a stifled cry; though his wrists have been fixed on the inside, the tendons and nerves still aren't what they were, and it's painful for them to be tightly or roughly handled.

"I have an iPhone," he offers, voice strained as he takes a seat beside her while his doppel trails listlessly behind them and stays standing. "You're hurting me though..."