There was something on the tip of Greg's tongue; he automatically postured himself to say yes, of course, to wave off that concern before it could even land on him. Part of it was just his usual urge to put people at ease, but it had also just always been true. Of course he had someone. His mother, his mates, his wife.

Now, though - there really wasn't anyone. The realization settled on him uneasily. His smile dulled slightly, to something closer to determined than really carefree. But he kept it up, and just let his eyes drop to wher his blanket was tugged up to his chest.

"No - no, I'll be fine. They won't kick me out before I can walk, you know? It's just an arm." And it seemed like a much less daunting prospect than coming face to face with the fact that he was going home to deal with it alone. When he'd first met Mycroft, if anyone had told him he'd be reluctant to see him go, he'd have laughed in their face. But here he was, the only one who had stayed, even if it was out of a sense of obligation.

He tried a tight smile, looking up at him with a sort of grim resolve. "It doesn't take any more than that to microwave a cup of noodles."