Tuo very nearly lost more than his voice, before he started singing for firewood. But that's a story to tell for when enough time has passed to lend it the filter of humour.

"I don't know," Dain considers aloud. "I'm not convinced losing his voice wouldn't be an improvement." He's still smiling, if not quite at his earlier levels of good cheer, to make it clear he's joking. He's glad, that Lorne knows; glad that Tuo saw fit to be himself.

It might be wise to avoid leaving together, but it would be equally unwise to stay here for very much longer -- and, if Dain is honest with himself, he's losing the energy to navigate that social caution. A few moments of safety seems to have sapped all of it. So he stirs, and rises to his feet. "I have it," he assures them both. "Is the door unlocked deliberately, Lorne?"