[Astaroth isn't going to return his look, at least not yet, but one of his arms automatically wraps around the angel — to support him, of course — when he grabs his shoulder. He's hardly sober himself, but he still has the presence of mind to keep looking out for his minders as he leads the way back to his bedroom.
He doesn't pull away from Uriel until they're both there, and when he does, it's to flop back onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Even as intoxicated as he is, the gravity of this situation isn't entirely escaping him.]
[Somehow, that phrase alone is enough to shake the worry from Uriel, sobering the doubt attached to even coming here and it leaves him with little more than what he started with. There's a shaking guilt to everything, and a certain aching for that ease they used to have. There are no premonitions for this, not an inkling as to where this is all going.
Uriel climbs onto the bed with a bit of attempted ceremony and ends up teetering over once his bum is on it. He looks over at his brother, rolled to his side.]
[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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He doesn't pull away from Uriel until they're both there, and when he does, it's to flop back onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Even as intoxicated as he is, the gravity of this situation isn't entirely escaping him.]
This is fucked up.
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[Somehow, that phrase alone is enough to shake the worry from Uriel, sobering the doubt attached to even coming here and it leaves him with little more than what he started with. There's a shaking guilt to everything, and a certain aching for that ease they used to have. There are no premonitions for this, not an inkling as to where this is all going.
Uriel climbs onto the bed with a bit of attempted ceremony and ends up teetering over once his bum is on it. He looks over at his brother, rolled to his side.]
I was honest. I always have been.
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When he speaks again, it's in a murmur.]
You never could help that, could you.
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Never. Particularly not with my brothers.
[His shift sets him a bit closer to Astaroth.]
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Am I still your brother?
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To me you are.
[His eyes sting and he blinks them furiously.]