[He reaches for Billy's hand, the marked one, shared indicator of time spent somewhere even less convivial than this, just to make sure he has the right Billy before he leans over and rests his shoulder against Billy's. Surprising how used to Billy's presence he'd gotten, in some ways; in other ways, not a surprise at all.]

Slowing down is for people who don't have the alcohol tolerances of a god raised on Asgardian mead, Billy.

[He smiles back, all half-feigned confidence and cheer. Yes, yes he is planning to get that drunk, if he can.]

You have magic! I'm never too heavy for magic.