The scoff that exited the angel's lungs sounded more like a cough than anything else, but more because he hardly even found her snippiness insulting.
"Hon, the only reason I'm Earthbound is because of the fact that I like it here. I like a good drink now and then, and I like the atmosphere. It's an enlightening contrast to the gold streets and glowing abundance of the Big Guy in all his glory, all right? Just like you need to pump your liver full of this shit until your liver decides to kill itself to avoid the abuse, I like to get shitfaced, too. Gimme a Jack and coke, if you don't mind, bartender." He turned back to the girl. "So, who doesn't screw up every now and again? Nobody's perfect. I've fucked up before too... At least I didn't trigger the start of a fucking apocalypse, though." He shook his head, focusing himself. "Anyway, all I'm saying is that we've all got problems, myself included, so why not take the opportunity to get myself some brownie points, right?"
"As for the real question, what can I offer over an Archangel, here's what, sister: I've got authority over my own actions. Yeah, granted, I still work FOR him, but I'm essentially one of the managers of my division. Archangels have to answer to God's whim; I don't. So, when you go to your buddy and ask him by batting your eyes and shoving your ass in his face, and he says no, well, then you've got me to go to. But skip the batting eyes bit. I'd rather not remember your face when I fuck you."
He rolled his eyes then, "And please, spare me, I got your attention enough just by commenting on what you were discussing, let alone what shoes you might have been wearing, Fleshy. I try not to keep the neon sign going when I'm not talking business." Lifting his drink to his lips, he said quietly while blatantly trying not to be discreet, "And I already had introduced myself by that point..."