[There's a pause as the young mans forehead hits the bar and Gabriel can't help but roll his eyes some. Such dramatics. He sips his drink idly, letting William loathe and whinge all he wants. At the mention of another drink he frowns softly, fairly certain his thin, mortal frame probably shouldn't have as much as another bottle. If he wanted his Acolyte to survive the night and not chalk another death up to alcohol poisoning, perhaps he should step in as a concerned friend. Or at least try to grasp better control of the situation while he was still fairly sober.]

Let me finish the one I have and we can get you something upstairs.

[At least then he doesn't have to worry about the drunk fool falling down the steps.]

No need to take a bottle from them when you've got a bar next door and the Archangel who owns it as your best friend.