A big bruiser of a man had Methos’s arm in a vice-lock. He turned his head gingerly to the left. A twin to the first man had a lock on his other arm. Methos felt no presence. Well, that was something. He giggled. Oh, hell, he thought.
Adult, humour. Methos gets hit with a (deadly) truth drug. Verbal diarrhoea ensues which leads to hilarity, sexing and a surprising amount of feels. Altogether lovely.