Ethan stumbled through the bar, the girl hooking him around his waist, bracing his chest with her hand to keep him from falling forward. Whether or not she could have if he did pitch forward was debatable, given their size difference, but thankfully it didn't come up. Ethan wasn't a huge man, but he was sturdy and muscular, and with the artificial limbs, he weighed even more. He was little more than a plastered mess barely capable of keeping his booze in his stomach. He was very good at that, thankfully, so Charlotte was in little danger of sustaining any collateral damage while escorting him home. Ethan mumbled something of a reply to her comment about 'being a piece of work' but it was far too slurred and lazy to be understood. The drive home would have been awkward had he been sober, for neither one of them really felt like talking. She was beyond pissed about having to pick him up in the wee hours of the morning, especially after a long day at work, and he was so intoxicated that he would have been unintelligible anyway.<br/><br/>The splash of water across his face and chest took him by surprise. He cursed loudly, flailing about a little as he tried to figure out what had happened. By the time he looked over, Charlotte was already out of the driver's seat and on the other side, pulling him out and down from the truck. "How... how did you... you're fucking fasssssst," he whispered loudly, the alcohol on his breath noxious enough to kill a dandylion. The trip up the stairs was terrifying at best, each step threatening to take them both down, both backwards and forwards. Somehow she managed not only to get them both up to the third floor safely, but managed to get him inside the apartment without breaking anything else. He fell back on the couch, his head landing on the cushion just in front of the arm. "Oooooo... could'a done without that." The fell felt like he'd stepped off a 5ft ledge, simply because everything was exaggerated when one was drunk.<br/><br/>The way he laid there, unmoving but for the rise and fall of his chest, Charlotte could have assumed that he had passed out. But rather than just leave, she actually started to tidy up his place. The main area was pretty messy; not that it was a pig sty or smelled of something rotten. Mostly it was just bottles and cans that had been drained completely of their contents. Despite his current state, Ethan was distinctly aware of what was going on, and perhaps it was the alcohol that caused him to actually feel something resembling embarrassment over the mess. He had been an ass to her the day before, and now she was picking up his apartment at 0230.<br/><br/>"Thank you," he said, his voice deep, but crystal clear and plenty loud enough to be heard. It wasn't sarcastic or snotty, but a heartfelt thanks. "For that, and for getting me."<br/><br/>And then Ethan did something that, in case Charlotte wasn't already floored by what he said, could have made her feint by itself. "And... i'm sorry for being an asshole."