The world was fuzzy, glazed over in his alcoholic stupor, and he barely registered the sound of the door opening, nor the hands that hooked beneath his arms to get him to his feet. Hadn't he been on his way to the ground floor to find someplace not here to sleep? Apparently, he couldn't even remember that much, let alone where he had been that night in order to get to this state. A sigh escaped him as he was helped to his feet, wavering and leaning against Pierce as he was helped over the threshold.
"Thanks," Simon managed to get out, breath reeking of alcohol. Pickled Simon at your service.