Charles swallowed, jaw working like he wanted to argue but couldn't find a lie that fit.
Gabriel leaned back slightly, shifting Arik higher on his hip as the baby made a low, offended sound at the tension in the room.
"How am I to blame for this?" Gabriel asked, and it wasn't cruel. It was factual. "I didn't march you into that wing. I didn't make you swing. I didn't make you loud."
Charles's voice went tight. "You're my brother."
Gabriel's gaze didn't soften, but it steadied. "I know."
He adjusted Arik again, palm firm at the baby's back, because Arik had opinions about loud voices and apparently intended to file them immediately.
"Charles," Gabriel continued, "you know I'm not going to contest Damian's order just because you're my brother. If it was unfairness, real unfairness, I'd burn the room down first and ask questions later." His mouth quirked slightly, sharp and familiar. "But this isn't unfair. It's inconvenient."
Charles's eyes flashed. "Inconvenient."
