Surprised by a familiar voice, Metatron turned around and smiled fondly at his first customer. "Well, God does work in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"
"Speaking of boobs!" Of course, James chose that moment to interrupt in a most lewd and irritating fashion. Robert elbowed him. Hard. "Wha? What did I say?"
"Oi! Keep your minds out of the gutter! You're talking about my little sister! Dear Natasha, do feel free to smite the heathen." He leveled his slave with a dark glare. "While we are indeed the Church of Beer it is our speciality, for you, darling sister, anything." He poured a measure of vodka and Kahlua into a shaker full of ice. When it was sufficiently agitated, he poured the contents into a glass over fresh ice and presented it to her. "One Black Russian."