Frightening Chuck had not been the point of the exercise, and Castiel felt a pang of what could only be guilt – another very human emotion, born of doubt in ones convictions; another weakness he couldn’t afford – and glanced down in what passed for apologetic shame where he was concerned. “I did not wish to startle you. I apologise.”
It felt inaccurate to claim that he had had little experience with alcohol after the excursion which had landed him in hot water with Zachariah in the first place, but one night of excess did not give him any real degree of mastery; he felt safe, however, estimating that Chuck was what passed for relatively sober. Small mercies, he thought, wondering whether humans recognised the irony of their idiom; heaven often played little part where such mercies were concerned. He didn’t doubt that Dean would have had something pithy to say on the subject.