Numbers lets himself get dragged into Wrench's house, barely registering his surroundings as he's brought to the couch and collapses upon it. He hears something being poured, and a glass is pushed into his hands.

When he raises his hand to respond, a bit of liquor spills from his cup--though, he doesn't seem to notice. Yes, he replies, a bit too forcefully. He tries to adjust his grip and raise the glass to his lips. His hand is visibly shaking as he does so, but he manages to gulp a few mouthfuls. It burns the back of his throat and he coughs, jolted to attention. Only briefly, but attention nevertheless.

Yes, he repeats, trying to focus on his words. I'm paying attention.

He can feel himself slipping. Numbers forces himself to down more of his drink. It burns again, but doesn't quite have the same effect. He can feel Wrench's eyes burning into him. Christ, he hates it when he looks at him like that. Makes him feel like he's done something wrong. He knows he can't hide anything from Wrench--nor would he want to. But his memories of the situation are fuzzy, intermingling with memories before his arrival in Sweetwater.

I'm tired, he continues, slowly, almost apologetically. As if that explains the situation. Want to sleep.