Castiel wasn't watching Aziraphale all that closely. Most angels in his experience didn't show what they were thinking on their faces, particularly not their human faces, not unless they were feeling particularly cruel, disgusted or (more rarely) benevolent. He returned his gaze from the slow sweep around the room just in time to see Aziraphale take some of the wine.
Angels didn't need to drink. In fact, angels didn't drink. They could, but none of them did habitually, not that Castiel knew of. It would have to be some sort of... occasion. Raphael and Zacharia did it sometimes, to make fun of the mortals. He stared at the wine. Unlike Aziraphale, Castiel did not trust all of his brethren. The shrewd blue eyes came back up.
"There is only one I know of." Castiel's eyebrows jumped. "Eden. That is a little longer than most demons." In Castiel's world, the typical demon used to be a perfectly ordinary, tortured human soul. Since there wasn't any humans in Eden except for Adam and Eve (obviously) he figured Aziraphale meant a fallen angel. Still, it was a harsh thing to call a former brother. More uncomfortable shifting. "If he's been on Earth that long, he can't be all that much of a problem." Castiel was sort of in the mood for smiting. He wasn't looking for it, but he wouldn't mind it.