"As you will, sir," Samandriel said, getting up to pour drinks for them both. He came back with two glasses of whisky, neat and set the bottle down within easy reach so he could pour more when it was required.
"When you're finished, Master Barton, if you'd like to hear my story..." It seemed fair. If Clint was going to open old wounds, the gesture was what he could do. An angel and a demon might not be likely friends, but stranger things had happened.