[Uriel can smell the liquor on his former brother, probably because he's been so drowned in it himself. Somewhere between getting home from the bar after the team's celebration and getting into Eden's side stash of glass-bottled-liquid-coping devices, Uriel hadn't done a very good job of sobering up. Something about all these text messages had given him the ill-conceived plan to make it worse. It wasn't a difficult thing to resist, being already intoxicated.
He stumbles through the door and doesn't even give a thought about minders before grabbing on to Astaroth's shoulder.
He wants to ask, but his look does for him. This isn't a game, is it? His barriers against emotional states like this have long been torn down by disarming text messages and liquor.]
no subject
He stumbles through the door and doesn't even give a thought about minders before grabbing on to Astaroth's shoulder.
He wants to ask, but his look does for him. This isn't a game, is it? His barriers against emotional states like this have long been torn down by disarming text messages and liquor.]