Raidou paused, fingertips still resting against the slow pulse beating in Genma's temple, and looked at nothing. Alcohol made his thoughts slippery and slow, hard to grasp, but now it felt like he didn't have any at all.

"Right," he said after an age, and dropped his hand. "Wow, you really did crack your head. Okay--um. Right. Bed. That's what we're doing." He stopped and shook his head, flustered. "You. That's what you're doing. You're going to bed and sleeping until you wake up sane. Or sober. Whichever comes first."

Genma was giving him a faintly puzzled look. Raidou bit his tongue until he stopped babbling, and braced his hands on the floor. Getting back to his feet was much harder than it should have been; his weight felt balanced weirdly, leaning him in the wrong direction. He canted, swayed, and caught himself splay-legged. Genma was still giving him a puzzled look, but it was starting to colour with new amusement.

"C'mon, wrists," Raidou said, even more flustered, and held out his hands. "Need you to help out again."

Genma offered his own hands, silvery with scars in the moonlight; Raidou caught him carefully by the wrists and pulled him half-way up, using a staggering kind of momentum to land him on the bed again, where he released him.

"Right," Raidou repeated, re-catching his balance. "Water's there. Pills for the morning. Saucepan if you feel sick again. Um..." They were ninja. They didn't do love. Most of them hardly did friends.

"Sleep well," he said wretchedly, and turned to head for the door.