It looks like Newt's legs are much faster to go when drunk than his mouth. Sawyer would try to muster the strength to be annoyed, but more than anything, he's trying to figure out the logistics of getting Newt home. He could call a cab, but it just feels like such an unnecessary cost when the apartment's not honestly all that far away, and also when he can't be sure whether or not Newt is the type of guy to feel nausea when moved too far after drinking. He snorts, slightly broken out of his thoughts when Newt starts babbling on and on about friendship and not leaving Sawyer alone, which... well, Sawyer doesn't think that kind of loyalty's possible to build after one night of drinking.

He could be wrong, though. And strangely finds that he wouldn't mind so much if he is.

"If you ain't gonna remember anything from tonight, then you probably ain't gonna remember much of my name or face, either," Sawyer points out with a slightly aggravated sigh, then gives a preemptive glare to those around him before crouching down and turning his back to Newt. "Get on. You can't even walk ten steps; I ain't interested in pulling your arm from its socket to get you home."