"Occasionally," he repeats with emphasis, the mirth clear in his voice. Angel takes the container and kicks back, a little more than he has intended to, but he's more graceful than he lets on sometimes. It's an easy motion for him to swing his arm back to catch himself on his elbow, without sloshing any alcohol down his front.

He lowers the bottle after a moment, blinking lightly, the buzz finally beginning to settle in. "Well, 'm listening now, so ..."