The more the night wears on, the harder it's getting to gauge when he needs to head out for fresh air to clear his head of the fuzzy gray blur that envelopes him when he's around people who are drinking alcohol. In this case, people who are drinking, in his opinion, too much alcohol, but then again, he might be being unfair; it might be just that there's so many of them in one place that it just adds up too quickly.

He's almost completely out of it by the time he realizes that he needs to get outside again and, by the time he does, he's practically fall-down drunk by proxy. Everything is spinning and, seriously, do people actually like feeling like this? This is fucking bullshit is what it is.

Caleb doesn't even realize that he's missed a step until he feels like he's about to fall and then someone grabs onto him.

Blinking with slow, intentional effort, he grabs onto the other guy and snorts out a laugh. "Jesus, fuck, you're my hero," he laughs...and laughs...and laughs a little more. "Oh my God, I hate it," he slurs stupidly when the giggles start to settle a moment later. Caleb takes a deep breath, tilting his head up toward the sky as if willing the sky itself to flush out this empathetic intoxication. "Thanks, man," he adds, sounding a little less inebriated.

He keeps his hold on the other guy for another long moment, clinging like he's a little afraid he's going to fall over — he is, actually, a little afraid he's going to fall over — but after some fresh air, he starts to slowly come back into himself. He wants to go home and, seriously, fuck this party, but on the other hand...he feels like he should stay?

Sighing, Caleb scrubs his face with both hands. "Why can't anyone have a party without liquor? Seriously, is that a thing? It should be a thing."