Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't stain my hands. I just gave orders."
Damian didn't smile. Not really. But his jaw unclenched, just slightly. His steps were unhurried as he crossed the room, closing the space between them like he had all the time in the world and none to waste.
"Are you admitting guilt," he said lowly, "or bragging?"
Gabriel lowered his hands, fingers flexing slightly as he set the tablet down on the desk without breaking eye contact. "I'm reminding you I was merciful. I could have done worse."
Damian's gaze flicked down briefly, catching the faint shadows under Gabriel's eyes, the too-clean collar, and the telltale tension in his shoulders that meant he hadn't rested again.
"Have breakfast with me." It wasn't a suggestion or asking; it was an order.
Gabriel didn't answer immediately. His brows lifted the way they always did when Damian tried to order him around, but the refusal never came. Not this time.
