Gabriel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh, muffled by the pillow, unrepentant. "Of course I did. Because apparently I'm a masochist with a penchant for national trauma."
Damian's fingers curled lightly at his waist, tracing lazy shapes against the bare skin. "You said it with a straight face. I was there."
Gabriel turned his head just enough to glare at him, cheek still mashed into the pillow. "That was before today. Before the choir. Before the ceremonial braid nearly took out my eye. Before your mother kissed me on both cheeks and said I was brave."
"You are brave," Damian murmured.
"I'm tired."
"Also that."
A pause.
Gabriel rolled onto his side with a quiet sigh, one hand reaching out, catching Damian's shirt, and tugging halfheartedly. "Tell Edward I died."
"No."
"Tell him the stress got to me. Tell him I ran into the woods. Tell him—"
"—you're planning our next public appearance."
