Lucius is still trying his damnedest to finish carving this stupid traverse board. He's not good at carving, has no tools, and only a vague idea how one goes about constructing an item like this, but he's doing it. And it's going to be fucking gorgeous because Blackbeard had mocked him and spite is a hell of a motivator. So, he decides to enjoy the sunshine outside as he tries to whittle with the steak knife he stole from one of the fancier restaurants, and heads toward the deck.

The upper deck is probably better for this, more light and less trouble, but he approaches the stairs with an apathy bordering on resentment. He hates the stairs but they're definitely better than the elevators. His grumbling, or potential grumbling, is cut short as he pushes the door to the stairwell open and is instantly confronted by the wrong end of a very sharp sword.

"Holy Fuck!"

Lucius shrieks, throws his hands (and subsequently both his carving and the knife he'd been holding) into the air and stumbles back until he hits the door and shoves it closed. A moment later his carved slab of wood hits the metal stairs and clatters, loudly and terribly, as it tumbles down, down, down. The knife makes no sound until it hits a railing a deck or two below them. At least it's not in his shoulder, so that's nice.

He's staring at the sword so intently that it actually takes him a long moment to realize who is holding it.

"Wh--how--Izzy?"