Sam watched somewhat unsteadily as Jesse pulled away. He shifted on the couch a little himself, and hey, that felt fun. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry, which he remedied by taking another sip of alcohol and cola. "Yeah, I suppose. You should come to England sometime, mate. You'd have a blast." The sheer diversity of British accents alone would amuse Jesse, he suspected. Never mind the Irish and Scottish milling about.
He shrugged then, grinning as even that made his head swim just a bit. "Doesn't matter. I'm up for whatever." He just didn't really want to head home yet. His flat was always so boring. And empty.
He carefully forced himself off the couch, steadying himself by feeling his feet on the floor for a moment, before taking off in the direction of the loo. He very carefully aimed and all that, and washed his hands with intense concentration that only came with being drunk, and headed back out to the livingroom. He clumsily dropped to his knees in front of Jesse's DVD collection, and started looking through them.