"Or down," Aziraphale muttered, sliding into a booth near the door - the better to keep from being overheard and watch out for familiar faces. Tapping his temple, he considered how drunk he wanted to get. Conclusion: reasonably. Gabriel was still something of an unknown quantity, but he actually seemed quite pleased with what Aziraphale might once have termed his moral depravity, so it was safe enough.

Best to start with wine, though. It was comforting and reminded him of home.

"Hangovers are unpleasant," he agreed, glancing up at Gabriel and wincing at the memory of Thursday morning. "Incidentally, you may not vomit on me tonight."