Simon was out drinking his ass off, the bourbon running though his entire system that he couldn't identify anything around him except the glass of bourbon he's drinking out of.

You knew you had to come pick him up, as his girlfriend, trying to persuade him after you brush his arm, he slapped your hand away.

"You know," he slurred with a heavy, annoyed tone "my girlfriend won't hesitate to chop your fingers off, if she saw you touching me like this"

He doesn't seem to remember you.