Chuck's wiping the stray uh, stuff off his face, feeling nearly as dazed as Raleigh sounds.

"I'm gonna get something to drink," he says hoarsely, pushing himself up unsteadily. He's still achingly hard himself, but there's a pretty pressing need to rinse.

He's not feeling bad about it, though. There's a calm that's settling in his gut as he stands and makes his way to the cabinets where glassware is provided.