As much as Orsino cared about the current plight they were all in, some more than others, he began to feel increasingly sleepy. He couldn't figure out why, as he was normally much better at taking liquor and remaining awake. Probably the emotional strain of the day, and he hadn't slept well last night, come to think of it - Seven had kept whining about something, and he'd had a bizarre dream he couldn't remember now. The scotch had just been the kicker.
This was pathetic.
He mumbled something in response to Heath's declaration. It sounded something like, "That's a load, you're not going anywhere." But then his eyelids were heavier than ever, and his chin fell to his chest, and he was crumpled awkwardly against the arm of the sofa.
[OOC: I've gotta head off for the night, I've got work earlier than usual tomorrow! Orsino's just gonna doze off for a while - they can move him, or leave him where he is. Have a good night/day all!]