Ah, that wonderful hand...  Gabriel loved Paul's hands, would cherish them always, would worship them if given the chance, and he happily accepted the caress against his thigh.  Paul was gracious enough to let him answer the phone, but Gabriel half considered just pushing ignore, just to keep Paul close.<br/><br/>"Hello?"  His voice was soft as always, a vague gentleness that settled in the air.  The tone grew mildly puzzled as the other person on the line began to speak, prompting a lazy, unruffled response.  "Yes, this is he.  What is this about?"<br/><br/>A moment, and then all of the softness of Gabriel disappeared, his pliant facade hardening into a brittle pane of glass: he sat up straight, spine rigid as his face froze in a look Paul had never seen before.  His green eyes stared out the massive windows overlooking the city, but it was as if he couldn't see.<br/><br/>"What?"<br/><br/>The word slipped out of him, barely uttered but filled with disbelief.  The person on the phone started talking again, a low buzzing noise, and it was enough to draw Gabriel's attention back.  "No, I understand...  I see.  Yes.  Please do."  Gabriel didn't look at Paul, but his eyes slowly roamed over the table, glancing at the plate like he had no memory of its purpose.  He barely felt Paul's hand on him, his whole body gone cold.<br/><br/>"Yes.  Thank you."  There was a little more buzzing, and then Gabriel hung up.  His hand gripped the phone unnaturally, thin fingers curled and aching against the sleek surface.  Gabriel stared at the blank front, silent and stiff as he awkwardly put the phone down on the table, like it was something that could bite him; he was obviously in shock, though it was wonderous to imagine what could shock someone like Gabe.  There was nothing that could surprise him, so little that could upset his usual demeanor in such a way...<br/><br/>The boy finally met Paul's gaze, remembering where he was and who he was with.  Such a beautiful day planned, and now...  What would he even say?  "No museum today, Sir..."  There was a hesitance, and then Gabriel murmured out what had happened, voice low and distant-- no emotion, just thoughtfulness, though there was a storm beginning to brew in his chest.<br/><br/>"My father's dead."<br/><br/>Gabriel never, ever spoke about his family; not to anyone, not even Eddy, not even Paul.  He kept that world separate, far apart, and now everything was crashing together.  He felt the tightness in his ribs, the burning in his throat, the itch in the silver scars on his arms, and he broke his eyes away from Paul's, just to gather himself enough to continue.<br/><br/>"He's dead, and I need to arrange things."  And he would have to go home to do so...  Somewhere he had told himself he would never go near again.