Afterward, lying sprawled and sweaty in a tangle of limbs, he really wants a cigarette, but he doesn't say as much. Instead he just curls in against Gabriel and breathes out, kissing the little red mark he left on his shoulder. The sun is setting already, a little earlier each day, and light coming through the window and streaking over them is deep orange and comforting. He feels like he could stay here until it gets dark.

"So you're saying I should leave you offerings more often," he says lightly, smirking.