"Or," says Aziraphale, slightly peeved at the accusation of lightweightedness, "maybe it provided us with extra powerful wine." Or maybe he just wanted to feel it quicker.

Crowley getting into the boat is quite an ordeal; Aziraphale grips the edges of it in mild alarm, waiting for everything to settle again. Seeing Crowley's characteristic nonchalance up close and personal causes him a flurry of self consciousness, and he attempts to straighten himself up a bit.

"What ever are you trying to imply?" he says with a raised eyebrow.