The angel was looking at him sideways - literally, head tilted over to the side - and frowning like Chuck didn’t make any sense, and that quickly killed his laughter, made him choke on it and cough slightly, chewing on his lip and looking away, down at the ground. Right. No laughing at angels.
>“We do not make a habit of joking where the Will Of Heaven is involved. Prophecy is a serious subject.”
...Prophecy. Awesome.
“Okay, look, this is... that’s just not possible, okay? I’m, I’m definitely not the kind of person who should be, who’s....” He waved a hand in the air, gesturing a little erratically, then covering his face with both hands and sighing heavily. This was really, really not a good week.
“You know what? Screw it. I’m obviously way too sober to deal with this. Hallucinating or something. You’re a hallucination, and I need more alcohol.” It was obviously Jo’s fault, taking his last bottle away. Sure, she’d been trying to help, but... but now he had to go off and find something else to drink, while being followed by an illusion of an angel who’s saying he’s a friggin’ Prophet writing new books of the Bible or something. Awesome.