[Astaroth doesn't respond for a moment, his gaze flickering downward. He's not used to not having a sure footing with words, even while inebriated. It unnerves him like nothing else.]
[That question breaks every bit of resistance Uriel has. Face knitted with a mixture of pain, unparalleled contrition, and so many other unnameable emotions, the angel rolls close enough to wrap his arms around Astaroth, muttering against his clothing:]
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no subject
Am I still your brother?
no subject
To me you are.
[His eyes sting and he blinks them furiously.]