Paul felt a deep sense of dismay as he pulled into the weed infested driveway that Gabriel had directed them to. He was not unaware of the poverty stricken and slovenly, he's had to wade through the ghettos and back streets of the city in search of his true artists, the real creators with genuine, hard earned talent. He's seen the sort of reprehensible conditions the poor are subjected to through no fault of their own, and knew intimately how wealth was no indication of moral character.<br/><br/>Still, he could not help but condemn Joseph Isetti harshly as he stared at the trash strewn lawn and peeling siding. Even the poor were capable of pride and it was very clearly that Joseph had none.<br/><br/>Paul followed out after Gabriel, his expression of displeasure hardening with every step closer to the decrepit building. It transformed into outright disgust as Gabriel opened the door and stepped inside. Paul recoiled, so offended by the stench and refuse that he was immobile. He should have grabbed Gabriel, wrenched him away from entering such filth but Paul had been unprepared for it. Gabriel, obviously, had been.<br/><br/>Gabriel slipped between the trash, unbothered by the revolting result of human sloth and apathy as if it were normal. As if it was expected. As if it had always been this way. And it had been. God it had been for Gabriel as a child, growing up in this hellscape of a house.<br/><br/>Paul immediately wanted to vomit. He distantly wanted to drive back to the funeral home and cave in Joseph Isetti's skull with his fists. But what he did was this.<br/><br/>Gabriel entered and Paul, despite his soul deep revulsion, followed.<br/><br/>He was not shy in covering his mouth with his hand, and he glared in burning contempt at each new horror that revealed itself the further they went inside. He was very careful not to touch a thing, and watched every single step he took.<br/><br/>Gabriel didnt seem to be interested in going through any of the piles of garbage, he walked with purpose to a very specific door, locked for some strange reason. Inside was no better than the rest of the house except for a lack of rotting food and food containers. It seemed to have been sealed for a long time, a forgotten junk room. It's true purpose did not reveal itself until Paul saw the mattresses and children's toys.<br/><br/>There hasn't been a child in this house in many years, and yet the man had kept it all. Paul doubted very much it was out of sentiment. Joseph was too lazy to throw away his pizza crusts, why would he bother with the items of his children? They obviously meant nothing at all to him. There was so little to begin with.<br/><br/>Gabriel stared into remains of his childhood, utterly silent and searching for what? For what?<br/><br/>Whatever it was Paul wanted him to find it soon so they could leave this place. It needed to burn. It had to be burned. It had to be expunged with flame, erased from the face of the earth, scrubbed clean from existence. It was an insult, a blight, an abomination and Paul wanted it gone as soon as possible.<br/><br/>"Gabriel," Paul hissed, his anger boiling in his throat. He grasped Gabriel's shoulder tight and squeezed. "Find what you came for."<br/><br/>Paul was nearly vibrating with rage but it was not at Gabriel. Not at his angel that had to suffer this hell, but at the man who had created it, who had forced his angel to live through such atrocity. It was unforgivable.<br/><br/>A heart attack had been too merciful.