Michael often found himself missing the sensation of his brothers, even if a flicker of it had been felt with Gabriel. Yet, when he looked up to the owner of the bottle, he could still see the other angel, clear as day. It was something that hadn't been taken from him, even when he'd cut his own wings from his body. The sight was comforting, something probably too far and too between now that he was here.
"Do you even feel an effect?" His voice was even, measured, the usual slow pace in place that he always used, even when scolding someone. He smiled, though, taking the glass. Food or drink wasn't something he really bothered with, being what he was meant that such things were beneath him. His existence didn't require a body that wasn't his own. Still, he drank.
"I have been meaning to come, but I imagine you would understand how the days seem to blend together easily here."