He lets himself be pulled back, moaning at the tug forcing his head back, and he sits upright in Jedao's lap when he's moved; the way he shifts against Jedao's hand for support suggests he'd definitely be wobbling if Jedao let go.

"Noooope," he drawls, bringing his hands up to cup Jedao's face and squish his cheeks with his palms. "Party Doug's got zero regrets. Those are for-" he swallows back a rancid burp. "Those're for c'munications officer Eiffel. He would've regretted those first, uhh..."

He pulls a hand off Jedao's face to tick off on his fingers, and it takes a worringly long time, during which he makes multiple fists as he tallies. "The first sixteen drinks. But I'm fine!"