It's always better when friends don't physically fight friends, whether or not there's as large a discrepancy between strength and skill levels as there is between Tony and Lazarus. As it is he puts up no resistance, nods and points to a drawer in the kitchen when Tony asks about Neosporin and rubbing alcohol. Even if his words and thoughts are nonsensical and disjointed, he understands well enough what's being asked and why it's happening.

He can't take care of himself, and now it's falling to someone he was supposed to take care of. Even though he signed off on the confidentiality of the matter, he doesn't want Nathan to know about this any more than he wants Tony to be the one to push him into the shower and disinfect and patch his newest cuts.

Well, what do you want? You sent Cesar away, and White Pines is a pile of ashes.

He realizes that a couple of years ago, he almost went back, and would probably be in that pile of ashes if he had. He erupts into peals of strange, frenetic laughter that is devoid of joy or reason as Tony helps to haul him off to the shower. Though the glass has been cleaned up, cold air comes in through the space where Lazarus broke the window frame in his ill-advised, ill-fated escape attempt.