Gabriel had unintentionally gone overtime. Or maybe Rachel had let him; he wasn't sure. Either way, he was one of the last ones out of the music room, and then only because Rachel came up and interrupted him in the middle of an idle, contemplative melody. It was almost a shock to be broken out of his reverie. For a few moments, or minutes, Gabriel had actually managed to forget where he was. On one hand, that was nice. On the other, it was unnerving. Forgetting his surroundings like that ... it wasn't something angels usually did.

"What does he mean?" the Archangel asked of Landel as Rachel led him back to his room. "Some extra help?" That didn't sound good. Gabriel didn't want anything from Landel. Nothing at all.

Rachel patted him on the arm. "It's just a little inoculation, dear. Nothing to worry about."

Yes. Definitely something Gabriel didn't want anything to do with. How many times had he witnessed Lucifer's lackeys tampering with medicine? How many times had he seen Raphael raging over what he called those underhanded methods? (To which Michael, of course, had always asked him which Lucifer he was thinking of: the one who attacked Heaven or some imaginary friend?)

"I'd rather not, please," Gabe said a bit anxiously. "I--I don't like needles."

Rachel gave him a gentle smile, the sort given to a frightened child, and patted his arm. "It's just a little pinch, Noah. It hardly hurts at all. I promise."

She left her hand on his elbow, Gabe noticed, and they were approaching his room, and so he pulled back. His stomach was turning over. "I haven't been sick. I'm okay, really. If I was going to get sick, wouldn't I have done that already?"

"We're not sure of the incubation period, dear," Rachel said gently but firmly, but Gabriel couldn't very well fight her without actually hurting her--and that was something he didn't want to do. She was probably innocent. He couldn't knowingly and willingly hurt an innocent woman. Which meant that when she opened the door and propelled him forward with a not-exactly-surprisingly strong grip, he didn't have much choice but to follow, still clutching his banjo.

"Wait a minute--" he started, trying to pull away, but the action only jostled the needle as it entered his skin and the Archangel hissed.

"Don't wriggle," Rachel scolded him, pressing the plunger and then withdrawing the needle again. Gabriel bit his lip while she did, blinking rapidly, and said nothing when she patted his arm. "There. Enjoy your dinner, Noah."

Then she left and Gabriel stared down at his elbow, his stomach turning over. What was going to happen to him now? An actual illness? Hallucinations? Turning into a monster himself? Nothing at all?

All of a sudden he really didn't feel very hungry.