[Lazlo's an islander by birth. The place he had lived was more tropical than anything. Then why, oh why, is he out during the wicked, inclement weather
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[Lazlo might bump into a certain psychic slowly floating a couple of inches above the snow along with the provisions he'd acquired recently. Ever since the fever began to creep up two days ago, he'd been determined to fetch as much as he could in fresh produce, water, candles and heavy fabrics.]
[This latest caravan was mostly blankets and tea, neatly wrapped up in two large parcels.]
Mmm? [Even with the fever, he had enough sense to start walking again as he approached the other man.]
[A howling gust of wind wooshing past Lazlo's ear keeps him from responding for a moment, but when he finally tunes into the voice, he fumbles his communicator from his pocket.]
Ah, yes, of course. Quite all right. It's just--a bit cold.
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[This latest caravan was mostly blankets and tea, neatly wrapped up in two large parcels.]
Mmm? [Even with the fever, he had enough sense to start walking again as he approached the other man.]
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Ah, yes, of course. Quite all right. It's just--a bit cold.
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