Perhaps he's had too much to drink. There'd been a concerted effort to stay in control of himself, to get a little tipsy, but not drunk or anything, but that effort flew (or rather, stumbled and fell) out the window when Rex underestimated the strength of tequila. Trying something new was probably not the best idea, not when it came to alcohol. All it seems to be leading to is an increasingly stuffy lounge, and Rex could swear that either the room's gotten smaller, or there are more people-- entirely too many people-- crowding him. He needs air.

Rex pushes his chair back and makes a beeline for the courtyard. He can just... sober up there before he makes his trek home.

Right?

Wrong. The air seems positively saturated with smoke-- not that it actually is, but with his less-than-stellar respiratory system, Rex is pretty sensitive to these things. His lungs and throat are aggravated easily, and really, after being maimed and burned in an explosion, it's difficult to see the appeal in inhaling smoke for fun. And it doesn't help that Rex is still sensitive to the cold, so this is just a one-two combo that tells Rex that going outside was a very bad idea.

He doesn't even make it five minutes before he covers his mouth and nose and tries to stifle a cough. Alright, he's just going to back away slowly, get back inside, where it's warm and-- claustrophobic, sure, but at least it's not smoky...

Unfortunately, being a bit more drunk than he'd planned, Rex isn't really capable of backing up in a straight line, and he sort of veers into a complete stranger.