Serpico does drop the sword as he huddles on the ground, feeling dirt and fallen leaves tangle into his clothes but unable to care. He's never felt pain like this before, this searing sensation that pervades his entire body and makes his breath comes in shallow pants.

"... it was probably meant to be sent to the Southern territories. Disguised as a gift." He tries to distract himself by thinking, but it's hard; his thoughts run sluggish, and his chest feels tight with each word he says. "The duke had mentioned increasing tensions at his border ... perhaps he was hoping striking a key figure would discourage any further attacks ..."

He knows Lon'qu is approaching, but he figures neither of them are up for a tousle at the moment. Weathering the effects of whatever was in the box is probably a higher priority to both of them, so he doesn't bother trying to move away. Instead, he claws at the neck of his shirt, yanking off his cravat and undoing the topmost fastenings of his throat. At least that lets him breathe a little easier, and he exhales hoarsely.

"... depending on who the intended recipient was, it may not kill us. The duke is a rash man, but even he wouldn't be foolish enough to kill recklessly." It sure feels like it could kill, though. Serpico gives a wan laugh as he glances up at Lon'qu, eyes narrowed. "I thought ... your job was to keep me alive until you decide otherwise."

What a terrible joke. He's playing calm, but he really will be quite upset if he has to die like this.