Drunk
"Oh, no, you've been drinking again."
Havoc watched as Roy carefully set down the shotglass. "Yes, I have," the Brigadier General said slowly. "With all I've been through, I think I'm perfectly entitled to get screaming drunk and pass out on the floor."
Havoc leaned over, swooping up the bottle. "Whisky? How soon are you willing to end your life, Roy?" He screwed the cap back on, wrinkling his nose at the scent of raw alcohol.
"It was like this in Ishbar, too," Roy said, getting unsteadily to his feet. "Except it was Maes who helped me up and two people who didn't deserve to die bleeding on the floor." His one good eye squinted. "You don't look like Maes."
"And Bradley certainly wasn't the Rockbells." Havoc caught the black-haired man as he wobbled and started to fall.
"M'm... you smell warmer than Maes does," Roy murmured dreamily into Havoc's front. "I think I like this better."