She points closely enough in the direction of the glass that he figures she isn't about to keel over any time soon, but she's not quite on the mark. Getting called painfully attractive out of nowhere also isn't really that unusual, but her precarious relationship with sitting upright might be. He's pegging her at maybe a six or seven out of ten, not dangerous but definitely not a candidate for the rest of a glass of vodka.

He does what any good boyfriend would do and downs it for her, then sets it off to the side.

At this juncture he's still more amused than concerned, and he curls his palm around her free cheek to hold her in place while he ducks in to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Funny you say that, I'm pretty sure we traded places." Because if anyone in this town is the god damn grim reaper... "You want something to eat? I could get you something."

To soak up some of that booze.