Micah smiles a little at that, a bit too overworked to put up much of a guard -- and a bit too weary of their Cetagandan labmates to want to bother. Byerly is no more transparent than the rest of them, but he is, at least, more entertaining. The Cetagandans are downright stifling.

"I won't breathe a word," Micah says mildly, eyebrow quirked in faint amusement as they take the bottle back for another drink. The wash of warmth is familiar and more than welcome, and they let out another sigh, near-blissful, sinking against the bench a little. "God. I don't remember the last time I had a good drink. And I mean a really good drink."