Being just the right level of intoxicated, Angel's body moved on it's own following every little step Alastor made. Years of substance abuse made him relatively nimble while under the influence. Often his sets at the club he was royal fucked out of his mind on stage. So a little booze was child's play.

Lazily his head rolled back as he continued to hum to himself. "Man, this takes me back..." He muttered to himself than anything else. "Reminds me of my Nonna. Tough ol' broad. But you'd always find her singin' to her records in the kitchen. Taught me how to cook."