Gabriel rolled his eyes and crossed the room, but there was a smile tugging at his lips now. "Forget what I said," he muttered, taking the seat Damian pulled out for him. "You're having too much fun."
"I am," Damian said, settling across from him, that slight smirk still lingering in the corners of his mouth. "It's a rare thing."
The doors closed behind them with a soft hiss of enchanted hinges. Silence followed—comforting, not heavy. The kind of silence that welcomed conversation rather than stifled it.
Dinner was already plated: roasted duck in a glaze of honey and red pepper, buttered greens, delicate rolls split with herb-infused steam, and thinly sliced root vegetables roasted until caramelized. Simple by imperial standards. But carefully chosen. Familiar enough for comfort. Lavish enough to indulge.
Gabriel leaned back slightly, giving the table an appraising look. "You planned this."
