[Astaroth doesn't roll onto his side entirely, but he does turn his head to look at Uriel. The only reason there is even the slightest echo of this is a bad idea still ringing in his head is simply because of who — of what, really — Uriel is. There is little room for doubt in his capacity as a demon, and even less for regret, but that doesn't keep the memories of what they were from lingering.
[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
When he speaks again, it's in a murmur.]
You never could help that, could you.
no subject
Never. Particularly not with my brothers.
[His shift sets him a bit closer to Astaroth.]
no subject
Am I still your brother?
no subject
To me you are.
[His eyes sting and he blinks them furiously.]