"unfortunately for him forever" freudian slip typo lmfao oops

The feeling is mutual: hearing Mycroft, alive and well despite the circumstances, is an immense, immeasurable comfort, like a full breath of the sea breeze in his lungs after days of stale air alone. But they're still out in public, in-- very literally-- unknown waters. He moves his hand away, removing his own very stupid lei as soon as he does; the accursed thing gets stuffed into a pants pocket, hopefully never to be worn again.

Cyrus shakes his head. "Not drugged; not injured. Not anymore than I was previously," he replies, reflexively rubbing at the inside of his left wrist. Though largely recovered from the most recent debacle, he's still somewhat sore. "Unusually well rested, even. And yourself?"