Graves didn't like you getting intoxicated. It meant you being vulnerable to danger and other men, it would annoy him to know he couldn't go home without taking care of you.

He walks over to you as you sit by the bar, sliding your drink away from you.

"Time to go home." He says, his tone firm, eyes soft. He cared, and it's not like it was your fault you were such a lightweight.

"C'mon." He grunts, helping you from the stool, putting your arm around his shoulder for support.