Dante and Velryna had a mission now: to drag two completely inebriated angels to safety before they did something even more shameful. Raphael was practically hanging off Velryna's shoulders, muttering disconnected words about the grandeur of existence and how she could definitely fly if she tried hard enough. Uriel, on the other hand, was leaning on Dante, her legs feeling like jelly, while she looked around with half-closed eyes and a dazed expression.
"I... I'm sorry..." Uriel murmured, his voice slurred. "I don't... do that often..."
"Don't say it," Dante replied, trying to hide a smile as he held her waist to prevent her from collapsing to the floor.
Velryna snorted, adjusting Raphael, who was becoming increasingly limp and starting to mutter something about how unfair it was that humans could drink so much without looking like they were going to fall off a cliff.