“You can still get toxoplasmosis from cat sídhe,” Yukio explains, sinking even further into his chair. “Demonic toxoplasmosis.”

Or something.

It takes an absolutely monumental effort to push himself back up so he’s sitting in his chair, but he manages. He’s been tired for months, but with the combination of the magic and the alcohol, it’s hitting him harder than usual. He just wants to sleep.

“I should go. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

Standing... is more than he can handle right now. Give him a moment to gather his strength for that.