It is, admittedly, not the smartest position to be in. However, Dave feels like he's figured out a little bit of the method to the madness. People spring into attacking at the Cornucopia, then it sort of tapers of. Anyone coming for him now would be crazy when they have nothing to steal but a bird in a bush.

He looks over his back every so often anyway, trying not to focus too intently on Davesprite as he struggles to cut himself free. It's conflicting as hell to watch, because who wouldn't want to give themselves a hand? Pride is a bitch.

"That's what stylists are for. Once you get out, anyway. While you're here you could always flick 'em at people and blind them with your gritty, orange dandruff." They may actually be onto something here and he moves to stand when Davesprite seems to have figured himself out, furrowing his brows as he extends a hand for the knife. "You want an infection in the desert? Shit sounds nasty. You gotta save the dramatics for week five, at least. Invest people into your narrative first."