That's what you get for drinking whiskey like it's a merlot.

[He's just leading the way, though he does mercifully slow his long stride a bit to make sure that Abbacchio can keep up the further they go, until it's clear that he's growing more and more off-balance with every step and he's probably not actually going to make it to the car.]

C'mon, then. Lean on me.

[He moves over to sidle up next to him, automatically reaching to support him with an arm around his waist.]

Unless you want to be carried there, princess.