Herc just clings to her for a long moment, hiding his face against her and fisting his hands in the back of her shirt, needing her to be close and real and unrelenting against him because he feels like he's going to get washed away and he needs an anchor to hold on to.

There's a part of him that feels like he shouldn't be dumping all this on her shoulders — she's so young, she doesn't need his baggage — but there's another part that's so selfishly glad she's here because he doesn't think he can handle all this on his own and she's young enough, resilient enough, strong enough to be able to shoulder his burdens with him until he's able to stand on his own two feet again.

He cries into her shoulder for a little while, though it's mostly just him sobbing open-mouthed against her shoulder, his eyes mostly dry, and eventually he sags, his limbs feeling heavy and useless.

"I'm really drunk," he mumbles finally, staring at her collar. "You might need to tell me that again tomorrow because I don't know if I'll remember this in the morning."