It was attached. To the jumpsuit at the neck with two snap-locks that he (or anyone else for that matter, provided they could get close enough for long enough) could flip easily with his fingers. And now his narrative was betraying him.

But as long as he could keep that one word from slipping, and he had to have enough self-control for that, really, he could stop this- "Aye." ...Oh hell. "That be a promise."