Anthony very much needs a cigarette.

He doesn’t pity Gabriel, and he certainly doesn’t blame him, but he doesn’t know what he is meant to do now, either. Icy fury still simmers in his veins, but he is aware enough to realize that his anger won’t do Gabriel any good in his wrecked state. He keeps his anger to himself.

So Anthony sits, and sips his tea, and watches Gabriel with an expression that is difficult to read. After a few moments, he carefully puts his hand on the young man’s knee.