The night had been a lot of fun; or at least Drifter thought that was the case. In truth he was never sober, so the Cajun was typically a poor one to turned to when it came time to recall something. Still from what little he could almost clearly remember there had been laughter, blushes, drinks, weed, and a few naked folks. So all in all he counted it as a success. Even when the others packed up, and started to head back to their own rooms, Miah crashed on the couch...using her clothing pile as a pillow. The broken bottle hadn't bothered him in the least. Since god only knew how many empty, and sometimes full, bottles he had personally dropped on that floor over the years in.
Nope, nothing really bothered him. So instead of fretting over the mess Jeremiah just fished out a cigarette from it's pack and lit up. It was only when he heard her voice, when she offered an apology, that the tattooed man even realized that Jo was still there...still there, and in her underwear. Personally he had done well all night, only finally losing every scrap of his own clothing on that final hand. Being naked was fine as far as he was concerned. However when he finally registered what she said Drifter just chuckled and shrugged. "No need to fret none, darlin. Think the party was just coming to a close regardless."