Len watches Mick gear up to play with a fixed smirk and one hip cocked, leaning one elbow on the counter. Poor attendant has no idea what he's in for. This is going to be good.

Mick fires quick and hot, like he does, and the surprise is just as quick to replace his raw confidence, and in turn shortly replaced by the Mick Rory brand of indignation, which means something's about to go up in flames. It's a joy to watch. Len straightens up leisurely, taking a short step back to allow for the incipient conflagration.

And there it is. Mick is all pure childlike delight as usual; for his part, Len is just glad this fair is getting off to such a good start. Everyone needs a little taste of chaos once in a while.

He tilts his head up to consider the array of stuffed animals not yet caught up in the blaze. He reaches out and selects a small polar bear with grave ceremony, tucks it under his arm and matches Mick's grin.

"Let's blow," he says with a nod.