Just in case.
"What a fucking... a fucking..." Lucian's angry words faded, and his vision blurred before snapping back to reality, "Zira! Can you, please, just, can you go get me that other bottle? Please? I'll love you if you do it... I mean, I love you anyway, but I'll love you more, y'know?"
He pointed shakily at an unopened red wine on a table perhaps five steps away. But he was laying down on a makeshift bed consisting of pillows and blankets, on the floor. It was actually more like a couch, being long enough for several people to lay down comfortably. He didn't exactly remember how he'd gotten there, or why, but he didn't care. All he knew was that the blankets kept him warm.
And he was cold because his shirt wasn't on him. He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, then took another sip from the half empty bottle of gin he'd poached from the gang member's stash. The burning of the drink on the way down pulled his attention away from his shirtlessness. He was barely awake as it was, eyes red and half open, and he couldn't stand without toppling over... wait, that was why he was on the ground.
Lucian giggled at his own ignorance, belched, and threw up in his mouth before washing it back down with another mouthful of alcohol. Then he flopped over onto a few throw pillows, and groaned.
"Ziraaaaa..... Where are you? I can't... I can't feel you anymore. Come over here please?" In all honesty, he'd lost Zira a while ago, but was sure she was still in the sprawling top floor room somewhere. Probably. Everything's beyond his normal senses was a buzzing smear of movement and white noise. Listening, in a sense, only got him a fuzzy feeling and nothing nearly normal. He could barely think his own thoughts, much less listen in on others'.