Johnny struggles to stand back up, his body equally unhappy about it. "Easy," he murmurs when Seth leans over, reaching out to touch his marked-up arm. Oh. Right. That.

Much too hungover to have a reaction to that, and anyway, so what? He turns away, spots the half-assed drawing he'd made the night before - it takes him a minute to realize what it is, but once he does, he's quick to tear off the page and slip it into his back pocket. Then he drifts back over to where he left his shoes and makes a slow, gratuitous effort of leaning down to redress his feet. Oh god, this is bad. Ughhhhhh.

"Fuck," he groans, straightening back up. "I regret everything." He blunders his way toward the door and braces himself there, resting his head delicately against the cool wall, waiting for Seth to catch up.