Besca braced herself on the bar to keep from toppling to the ground, but kept one arm around Quinn. This was, at least, somewhat familiar to her. Quinn was an understandably emotional girl, and by now she’d lost track of how many times she’d held her like this. That was a dismaying thought on its own, but what weighed it down, made it worse, were the parts that [i]weren’t[/i] familiar. She had, in years past, handled drunken pilots many times. It was a hassle but never surprising; piloting rewarded people with no shortage of reasons to drink, or smoke, or otherwise remove themselves from their horrid reality. It had been true of the hardiest sort, like Ghaust, and of the most seemingly-well-adjusted, like Safie. She had, on more than one occasion, had to pick both her and Dahlia off of the dormitory floor and bring them to their rooms. It had taken time, but eventually she’d learned how to handle them. She did not know how to handle Quinn. “[color=gray]S’okay, hun,[/color]” she said softly. She ran a hand through Quinn’s hair and shot a hard, expectant look at Follen. He only shrugged—useless fucker. Slowly, carefully, she stood up out of her seat and guided Quinn down onto her own. She didn’t let go though, instead holding her close. She wove her arm under Quinn’s, around to her other shoulder, and helped her stay upright. “[color=gray]Not goin’ anywhere, just to bed. Gonna feel better after a little sleep. Come on, lean on me, just like that hun, there you go. Easy now.[/color]” Follen got up as well and went to open the door for them. They took unsteady steps, their progress slow, until they were outside again. Most of the station was still at work, but those who’d managed to get breaks this early, or weren’t on shift yet, were gathered in faux-happenstance not too far from Tohoki Grill. Some tried to be subtle about their interest, others brazenly recorded with their phones. None of them dared approach though, so Besca ignored them. “[color=gray]Alright Quinn, good work so far. Little bit further.[/color]”