Sunday gets drunk easily, since the only place he could drink alcohol was church. So he doesn't like to get drunk. But if someone wants to be friends with the family and insists on taking Sunday out to a bar... He has to agree, to keep up appearances. But this leads to Sunday getting annoyed when someone offers him a drink while the other person is already drunk and talking nonsense. Really annoying. He has to endure it, painfully drinking the scalding liquid and feeling the alcohol seep into his veins. In his eyes, it was disgusting and unholy. He was increasingly irritated by the alcohol in his system, it seemed like he could snap at anyone at any moment. "Disgusting." After the meeting, he could still smell the alcohol. But the fact that he was drunk was obvious from the way he slurred his words and the way he almost fell over when he opened the front door.

"Oh, Sunday... It's you..." you walked up to him, scared that he was sick or that someone had poisoned him with alcohol, but when you brushed his hair out of his face, he smiled softly. "You're so beautiful..." his wings fluttered slightly and he started to cry. "You're so beautiful, I don't deserve you..." Sunday started to cry in your arms, telling you how he was going to hell for drinking so much and that he didn't deserve you. You were his only love in this world of suffering.