Forge never drank too much. He drank exactly as much as he intended to drink, every single time. Except that one time in Iraq when they found some weird moonshine that was probably made from distilled camels or sand or some shit like that. That was an... interesting hangover.
But that was years ago, and he was fine now, drinking beer at Irish's place and trying to work out if she'd mind if her DVD player got used for spare parts. She probably would. Maybe he'd settle for sorting out her tree lights and making them spell out swears in morse code.
He adjusted his Santa hat, and then went in search of the party's host. He had presents to give out! He hadn't been holed up in his lab for days for nothing, after all.