The hilt of the Holy Sword hit him right in the bridge of his nose, and he stumbled backwards, feeling his head swim. "I forgot who you are."
"What?" Alistair asked through gritted teeth as he blocked the attack of the angel he fought with. "The hell do you mean?"
"When you said, 'Hey, Siggy! Wanna have some fun?' I thought we were talking booze. I should have known you mean fighting for no reason!" he shouted, shoving his opponent backwards. He gripped the hilt of his own sword with both hands, swinging wide to sever the head of the angel. He slung gold blood off of his sword then held his palm to his temple. "Can we be done now? There's two of you, and this headache needs whiskey."
