Kennedy sighed and wobbled to his feet, sliding a trash can close to Jack in case he woke up sick. He paused for a moment, watching the unconscious pirate breathe.

Too trusting, me.

Something clicked then, and Archie could see the breathing body as completely man-shaped, not a strange and quirky soul to be alternately pitied and irritated with. Not a hopeless one, at that, one who had been burned by life just like everyone else, even if he wouldn't show it. In that way, not very different at all from Archie. One who, in a few hours, would undeservedly wake up alone on the floor of a bar if his friend left him there like he wasn't worth helping home.

He stooped and shook the pirate to wake him. "Jack. Let's get you home."