"Assholes," Fisher shot back weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Thank you," he said, turning his face away so James didn't have to smell his breath. "I shouldn't have started with the hard stuff. It's been too long." He got unsteadily to his feet, actually grateful that James had been there. At the moment he was lightheaded, so there was a distinct possibility he would've pitched face first into his own puke and drowned. What a way to be found the next morning.
"You're lucky," he said, after having spat onto the ground to clear the taste out of his mouth. "I'm guessing fire demons aren't as suseptible to alcohol?" That much was obvious, since now James barely had a swagger to his walk when before he'd been all over the place. Fisher took a few steps away from James to get a feel for his legs. "God, I'm so retarded," he said aloud, though he was only talking to himself. "Why did I drink so much? Oh yeah, because of Sasha. That girl has destroyed me forever." He looked at James, realised he'd been talking aloud, then giggled. "You can go," he assured him. "I'll make it back alive." But no, it was a 99% chance that Fisher would not make it back okay in his current state.
But suddenly he stopped, and turned back to the fire demon. "I'm sorry, James," he said sincerely. "All you wasnted to do was kill your brain and make it easier to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and I've done nothing but try and stop you." He gestured toward himself, his movements exaggerated and, well, drunk. "Who the hell am I to stop you? Fuck, I've drank enough to forget months at a time. Fucking hypocrite, that's what I am. You'll sort your shit out eventually." He waved James over. "C'mon, I owe you some booze." He started walking (well staggering) toward town again. "And I need a pack of gum."