[L was drunk already when the SQUIP came in, and his blood alcohol level only continues to rise. He is an overachiever by nature, and he set out to drink heavily; he succeeded far too well. Breathing feels like something he has to think about, an annoying effort. His brow is clammy as the room just continues to spin. Speaking about control when it is actually spiraling away from him in these moments is almost laughable.]

You know that I solve problems. If I'd been there, it wouldn't have gone far enough for you to lose control of the situation in the first place.

[This is a problem. One he created, and one he's currently in no condition to solve.]