I pray to god I don't have to pay for not knowing [ private ]

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Thus far, in Gabriel's experience, there were plenty of people who needed a few smacks upside the head, or at the very least, a dressing down. That wasn't his way of saying they were lost causes or that they lacked potential for being more than a trouble-maker; if it hadn't been for his mother, who had never hesitated to take him down a peg, he probably would've wound up in the same position, and when -or if- he'd gotten in with Capa, they would've rectified his inability to take direction more harshly than anything his mother would have done. Gabe couldn't say he approved of those methods. He'd seen one too many spirited recruits with crushed spirits, and very rarely did they manage to hold onto their fire. Gabe appreciated spark, however much it might seem he didn't. Feeding that glint more oxygen and fanning the flames was a result of that, a bit of goading to see how far their fire went before he did anything to redirect the bite.

A fire could be useful so long as you didn't let it get out of control. He wasn't saying he'd extend authority over kids with gumption, just- give a bit of tough guidance. He only needed to figure out how to approach that with Des, when the guy was locked up twelve times tighter than the chest of alcohol for all his friendliness.

For the time being, that manfisted in smacking the wolf's leg with the back of his talons, since he didn't want to bother stretching up for his head. "Easy's no fun." Although he would appreciate it if drinking were less of a challenge. It wasn't physically, because somehow everything tended to work together -unless he kept going through shit- but catching part of his reflection in the glass was definitely a trial of some kind. At least Des didn't comment on it. If he did, Gabe would have to give him a harder smack than that one.

He was sorely tempted to do it anyway when Des remarked on the vodka. The hybrid could take him up on the offer- just grab something in the room and hit him with it, although he didn't quite trust himself not to grab something on the side of too heavy and fumble with it ridiculously. He would spare himself the indignity, and Des the side-splitting laughter that would probably occur. "Vodka's done plenty things to me," Gabe muttered, gaze baleful, but the time of joking around and bantering was at an end now that they had to deal with the broken wing.

He much preferred the conditions here in the shack than wherever any of the medics would've taken him, on account of his strong dislike for getting poked and prodded. Gabe had enough of that for several lifetimes.

Still, he tensed when the wolf touched the wing, glaring at the ground. It was going to hurt like a bitch, but he could manage it. If he survived the process of having it broken, he could go with the mending, and it wouldn't be the worst situation he'd wound up in. Des was, at least, a better medic than staring at a wall and hoping he didn't bleed out as he'd done one too many times. He gave a slight nod at the countdown, and he focused merely on breathing and keeping himself steady for the canine to do his work without having to compensate for Gabe squirming. Not that he would ever do that anyway.

When the cloudburst of bright shocks burned a hole in his nerves, the hybrid made a sound caught between a snarl and a hiss, eyes shut tightly as he heard more than felt Des applying bandages. That area of his wing felt better, though, and there was something sticky on it that he managed to feel as soon as the fireworks stopped playing behind his eyes. Gabriel exhaled heavily, and snorted at the commentary, rolling his shoulders. "Think I'll manage without them, nurse." He shifted around, plopping himself down while facing Des. Very quietly, and a bit gruff, he said, "Thanks."

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