[Lazarus has hit rock bottom, and sometimes his gazes are distant and his smiles are just broken enough to hint at it. His doppelganger is a hurricane of a Mr. Hyde, a reckless study in unrepentant self-destruction, and no one suffering the brunt of it could possibly forget him soon.

He watches, hungrily and wistfully, as Cesar removes the lasagna from the oven. The gradual loss of his sense of smell was something he didn't care much about when he was upping and downing himself daily at will, snowblind and blinking. Now he regrets that he can only catch hints and notes, and only when others would call scents unbearably strong.

He goes quickly for the plates, fetching down two and setting them by the stove.]

I did some really, really stupid things after my entire childhood identity crashed and burned... but I want you to know that after putting it off for years, I recently got tested to make sure none of the stupid things I did with needles could hurt you.