[ He gives Vincent a sour look for a second – he is not too easily spooked, Vincent is the one being a dramatic bastard and seemingly teleporting everywhere. Not that Charle has any room to talk about dramatics, so he holds his tongue at least.

Instead, hie expression smooths into something bordering on helplessness, a wide and hopeful smile accompanied by wide and hopeful eyes as he takes that offered hand and gets to unsteady feet. ]

However much alcohol it takes for you to carry me daintily away like the delicate flower I am – that’s how much I’ve had to drunk. Drink.