Why the fuck was Dempsey just standing there staring at him. Not saying anything. He was way too drunk for this. He was far less articulate, far less level-headed and more prone to making bad decisions. It's why he never got this sloppy, but lately it had been the only thing he could think of that dispelled the ache long enough to feel normal.

"I'm not going to sober up any time soon, so you just standing there staring at me is pointless." He cast a look at Dempsey almost helplessly. Of all the ways he thought he'd encounter Dempsey again, Dean hadn't had this in mind. He wanted to be composed and appropriately abashed, apologetic, not three sheets to the wind on more whiskey than was wise. He'd had a lot, it took so much for him to get this gone these days. Maybe he could just walk it off, make up some excuse to leave early. High Street was a bit of a walk to his place, but he could probably manage it without getting picked up by the Constabulary.

Yeah, that was the plan, as soon as Dempsey left.