It took him a moment, a very long moment, to understand what was meant by that particular colorful idiom - he was so behind on modern lingo - and then he recalled a particularly uncomfortable afternoon intervening in a wayward vicar's trip to the neighborhood house of ill repute and nearly knocked Gabriel's drink into his lap. "Well, stop!" he retorted sharply at Gabriel's whisper, red from drink and frustration at constantly tripping into conversations in which he was entirely out of his element.

He did manage to miss Gabriel's hesitation, although he noticed the lack of drinking. Pulling the shot glass towards himself, he tilted his head curiously with none of his usual tact, asking without asking, though he wasn't sure if he wanted an answer, really.

These were beginning to feel very smooth going down, he noticed as he took the shot, and put it down on the table rather harder than he needed to. "I never . . . " He frowned. "Did all seven. Sins, that is."