Gabe's breath caught, partly in surprise at the way his human heart seemed to skip and his chest tightened, but partly not. The reassuring stroke of his hand didn't waver. Nor did his grip, or his position, at all. He just kept holding Murphy, this broken man who really had needed to talk so badly. The Archangel did stop humming, though, so Murphy could talk, unburden himself without competing with other sounds.

The story and the way it was told made tears come to Gabriel's eyes, ones that fell as the Archangel pressed his cheek to the top of Murphy's head. He said nothing, neither condemning or absolving, and wouldn't even try until he was sure Murphy had said as much as he could or wanted to. But he held Murphy tighter, and he wept for him.