He really can't move his arms very well, and he tests them not out of curiousity, but because he's starting to panic. Just a touch, but it's there, and a fraction of it shows on his eyes.

Nothing negates the rules.

He's willingly in a straight jacket, now. Liam's plaything. He feels foolish, but the other's words are still in his ear as he grunts in protest and winces at how tight his arms are and how rough they're being placed.

"I can be trusted," He manages. "I just--I--I get confused," It's the drugs and the pressure, but Mike screws his face up, tight. "I can do whatever you want, I just messed up this time, sir. I just--I fucked it up a little."

It sounds hollow as it escapes his throat.