Charles smiles, lowering the glass. "I stand before you, gentleman," He sweeps his arms, "Conscious and upright. Your swill's bark is worse than it's bite."
Hawkeye glances at BJ. "The first glass is easy. It's the second that bites." Charles reaches for another.
He smugly looks on as they hand him a third. He's not sure what they've been complaining about. Yes, it burned like fire, but he'd never let on. Hardly something to lead to the drunken antics they claimed. Though Winchesters did possess a high toler--
Thunk.
"Three glasses. Pay up."
BJ sighs. "I'll get the smelling salts."