At this point Gabriel would probably cheerfully punch a stranger for some Asgardian ale. Something a little stronger than what the bar currently stocked. So he busied himself with the usual ritual of tequila drinking when it became apparent he wasn't even going to get a decent buzz without having to put some serious work into it. Salt, shoot, lime. Repeat.

Easier to follow a mundane little ritual than think about his situation or his family. Sure, he’ll have to figure out what to do sooner or later, but tonight procrastination is the name of the game. Or at least until he gets bored and decides to give the ol’ wings a stretch because so far? Getting drunk just isn’t happening.

Stupid weak booze.

Gabriel’s head tilted towards the stranger, peering at him curiously for a long moment. There’s the oddest sense of déjà vu as he looks him over. Angel from another world? Maybe. Gabriel can sense something familiar about him, something that’s making his grace resonate in response. What’s even stranger is the emotion in his voice. Angels back home were normally the toe the line marble statue types, not exactly the sort to ask after another and sure as hell not the type to drink. Maybe the day wouldn’t be a complete wash after all.

He saluted the stranger with a shot before tossing it back and propping his elbow on the bar. “One of the things that drives most people to drink. Family.”