Castiel's movement prompted Sieghard to investigate further. He rounded the bed and approached the angel to give him a few curious sniffs. Edgeworth didn't respond nearly so well to the angel's presumption. He shot a sour look at his back, which only deepened when the displaced air carried the ripe, sickly scent of alcohol to him.

"Good God. Did you fall in a still on your way over?"

Tact was a tool reserved for people with the luxury of a full night's sleep behind them.