#338611 - I feel terrible. I struggled as best I could, lifting him to his feet and staggering inside, bumping into things and trying not to make a noise, while he cut an almost hilarious figure as the classic drunk, weaving all over the place, dribbling and muttering all the time. He was half-awake again now, propped-up against me, so I made him drink the glass of water I had brought back from the bathroom before I let him flop back down again, bare-chested now.
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