The hand being held makes Eiffel blink, slow and dull but deeply affectionate, and he lifts his arm to rest his elbow on the back of the couch and rest his head on his arm.

"'m'kay..." It's a dull slur, barely intelligible as a word, as he sinks into the couch further under the weight of the considerable quantities of alcohol lulling him to sleep. "'m'ber t'turn th'lights off..."

His grip goes slack on Jedao's as his head lolls, and... yeah. He's unconscious almost immediately. It's honestly kind of impressive he manages to stay awake as long as he did.