Lone Star locked the door behind him, then stuck his hoof as far down his throat as he could. He started to gag, then threw up. In his throw-up were several small boxes containing pieces of the unassembled flamethrower. He put them together, frowning as he remembered the fuel tank had been too large and too dangerous to risk putting in his stomach.
He smirked. Well, his mom had been a unicorn and the flamethrower had been built with that in mind. He trotted out of the bathroom, wiping sick off of his face. The flamethrower rested on his right side, held in place by his metal wing, while a gas mask was held under the other.
I forgot - I couldn't risk the fuel tank. It needs unicorn magic fed into it to run. He gave Icy puppy-dog eyes. Pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?