"No, no, it's okay," Caleb says. He climbs in and sort of tucks his legs in and around the clutter, then shuts the door. He's hard, but he does his best to ignore it. As they drive towards the Home, Caleb can feel the last threads of the drunk party-goers fading. All that's left is Michael, warm and sunny and amber. He groans softly as he feels him, and reaches over to rest his hand on his shoulder, like he just needs that physical contact.