Tony was sitting on the armchair adjacent to the couch, his legs stretched out, feet resting on the coffee table. He had a beer in his hand, but was more nursing the bottle at this stage. He wasn't going to sit here and get drunk. Not tonight. He assumed Heather would get here eventually, once she and Cas were done doing whatever it was they were doing. Watching terrible movies without his superior knowledge to guide them, most likely.
He'd brought back some alcohol for Feathers, something milky, as requested. He didn't know what the heck it was, but it looked like crap and probably tasted just as bad. Never mind. The next time Anna came back to the couch after her latest trip to the bathroom, he was really tempted to say something insensitive, but bit his tongue. Figuratively speaking. He could only imagine the big scary brother finding his way home couldn't be a fun experience. Sometimes he was glad he'd been an only child.