He adjusts his shit accordingly, un-hunching as best as he can. It goes against all his instincts to lean back instead of forward, but he tries.

"There is something up with my leg," Watson says lightly. "There's a bullet in it. A fragment of one at least, lodged behind my left patella. Add in some damage to the Achilles tendon, and, well. I do my best to not let it slow me down." He shrugs dismissively. That's not the extent of it at all, but the stiffness of his left shoulder may, in fact, go unnoticed. He hopes. It's all sort of embarrassing.

"The cane is not merely a fashion accessory for me," he adds. "Also, goodness, it's a damn good thing I am not the type to be easily shocked by your language, young lady." He grins at her.