Trowa shifted, moving them both to a position in which their legs wouldn't easily fall asleep or stiffen up. He wasn't going to drink any more rum for a while-- if he did, it was quite possible his head would grow clouded, and he was isolated in unfamiliar territory. No more without water at the least, though a meal would be preferable.
He hadn't drunk alcohol when he was fifteen, after all. His tolerance wouldn't be what it had been when he was taller and heavier in his twenties.
"That's an understandable reaction for a species to kill those who eat their kind. Humans have been doing it since we were humans... it's in the legends all over the globe."