Leon tried so hard, so hard not to do this. He felt pathetic, having succumbed once again to his addiction and reaching such a pitiful drunken state in public. He didn't deserve help. But he needed it.

He looked around the bar, or tried to, at least. He was seeing double. Triple. Everyone was chatting and laughing, with friends, with lovers. He would have felt envious if he wasn't too drunk to care.

Finally, he spotted you. Alone with a martini, but looking fairly content on your own. God, he felt awful for having to disturb you.

"E-Excuse me," he slurred, trying too hard to act sober. "I, uh, need some help. I live a few blocks down at that blue building with the palm trees, but... I-I don't know, I don't think I can make it on my own."