Gabriel's fork paused halfway to his mouth. The weight of that command wasn't lost on him, nor was the softness beneath it. Damian never asked when he could order. When he asked, it was because the answer mattered.
He took the bite anyway, slow, unbothered, letting the silence stretch just long enough to remind Damian that he wasn't one of his generals.
Then, finally, he nodded.
"You will get it," Gabriel said, voice low. "Do you want the technical part or what I've remembered?"
Damian didn't blink. "Both."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, arms folding in a loose, deliberate motion that only seemed relaxed to the untrained eye. Behind his golden gaze was calculation, defense, and, underneath it all, fear dressed in strategy.
"Demanding as always." Gabriel smirked and leaned back on his chair, enjoying the wine he couldn't have until now.
