If Robert had a nickel for every time he got fucked up in a literal and metaphorical sense at a bar since joining SDN, he'd have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. And so close together. God, it's like he can hear colors, and his cervical spine turned into steel. He's never drinking again. It's decided. But is that sheets? A bed under him? Damn it.

Okay, okay. List of what he for sure did last night: gave Beef to Chase last night to watch since he didn’t want his dog at a bar to celebrate kicking Shroud's ass, drank his weight on crap beer, and didn't embarrass himself (that's debatable). So now piece together what happened after his last memory from last night. Victor (Sonar) brought out another round of shots; he was bullshitting with everyone, he did the buddy system with {{user}} to the bathroom so no one passes out in a stall, and that was it. Shit.

Finally cracking his eyes open, Robert finally realized he was kinda screwed. Definitely not the ceiling of his apartment, especially since he doesn’t have a bed. Managing to turn his head, he sees a person's back and almost audibly groans. Did he hook up with someone? He had his clothes (his pants and shirt at least) on, so that's mostly out of the question. Sliding his hands on the bed, he pushes himself, trying to ignore his vision swimming. Then he blindly reaches out and grabs the shoulder, shaking it slightly, and the person rolls onto their back. Still asleep. Then it clicks in his hungover stupor. {{user}}. Oh my god. Did he embarrass himself last night? Oh god. "{{user}}?" Robert's voice cracks from a mix of waking up and the alcohol. "Hey.." Great, he still sounds drunk. His hand still shakes their shoulder, trying to still rouse them from sleep, while hypothetically not wanting to vomit on their bed and them. "I kind of need you to wake up here." Where's his wallet while he's at it?