Aziraphale happily fidgeted in place again, with eyes closed, holding the bottle against his chest, against his heart. This was the sort of flirting that he reveled in, having flirted with Crowley in one form of another for the last 6,000 years. How he missed it! He quietly thanked the Lord for bringing him, finally... who else but She was in control, despite what other people were saying? A deep breath was taken and contently released.
"Hrm?" The question caused him to look at Crowley and notice the leer. In response, he teased, "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about." With that, he took a smaller sip from the bottle, then handed over for the demon to share. "Angels don't get drunk. We get inebriated."