"Everett!" Here Myr'd been all dug in to have pain piled on pain for resisting the compulsion, and instead the person he'd been most missing shows up and solves the whole problem with his usual flair.

Truly, he couldn't've ordered a better intervention if he'd been given leave to dictate it himself. Granted, he can't--quite tell--what form the intervention's taken from all the shouting and giggling, but he assumes it's something he'll be delighted to hear about when they're somewhere quieter-- To wit, he gravitates toward that witty quip, staff in his off-hand as his right arm's bandaged to the elbow.

"What did you do?" And how fast can you get them both out of here and somewhere quieter, the appealing look on Myr's face says.