Davian had sniffed out the alcohol not long after he and Lilie arrived the bonfire and, demon constitution notwithstanding, he was easily skirting the line of what humans and practically everyone else would call happily drunk. He danced around the circle of the bonfire with the others to the music, someone's Hawaiian lei around his neck, and a cup in his hands half filled with punch and the rest with vodka. It spilled a little as he moved and Davian brought a doused finger to his mouth, sucking on it to not waste a drop, eyes scanning the crowd until he spotted a warm and familiar sight.
"Hey!" he called out with a grin, breaking out of the circle to weave through the crowd to reach the angel. He wasn't very tall and wasn't very big or in possession of a commanding presence, so he had a little trouble working through a group of witches who all complained that he was interrupting some something-something. But finally he reached his destination.
Coming to plant his bare feet in front of the angel, hand on his hips and fake wings only slightly crooked, Davian came to stand in Ambriel's way and looked him over, surprised to see he'd dressed up. "What's this?" he asked, "What a sinfully tight outfit, angelface. My Lord would approve." He moved closer to touch, balancing his cup in the other hand as his fingers traced down the front of Ambriel's costume.