"Well enough, the fever broke and I am as healthy as a fine Antivan Stallion." Cheerful, was he, or at least giving the impression of such. He even felt a little upbeat as he usually did when preparing for a mission. Something certain he could focus upon that wasn't so strange and questionable as whatever this mess is in his head, chest, and bed. Perhaps upon his return he would attempt to sort it out better, but doing so now?

The idea gave him the beginnings of a headache.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" That much he could offer. Perhaps a fuck for good luck- not that he needed it but it would be a fine way to spend the rest of his evening.