a heavy hand comes to land on gregory's shoulders, as he shifts, forcing himself to sit up.
“sorry, little brother,” comes his slightly slurred words. “m'sorry.”
biting his lip to try to hold in some laughter.
. . .
that tactic swiftly fails and he chuckles into his hand, coughing to mask the noise.
“i shall, ah, spare you the details, then, brother.”