[He had not expected a happy end to that tale, and yet the answer he was almost certain he would receive still hangs heavy in the air between them. Godfrey tells him much, but there are things he leaves unspoken, as well— had he not been in recovery, Gale is certain he would have done everything within his power to see the woman's life spared. It was simply who he was.

The tale is a grim one. He frowns slightly as Godfrey recounts Vlad's words to him, his brow furrowing further still.]

I imagine he was furious because he was terrified.

[Coming so close to losing the person you loved... such things were enough to push people to do or say things they wouldn't normally.

His gaze moves downwards as Godfrey shifts, and it takes him a moment or two longer than it should to realize what it is that his companion is doing, thanks to the wine. The scar is a stark contrast against the rest of his skin, and yet despite the solemnity of the moment, Gale feels his heart rise into his throat and his mouth go suddenly dry as he finds his gaze taking in other details, as well— the plane of Godfrey's stomach, the hard-won muscle.

He swallows hard, averts his gaze, and quickly drains the last of the contents of his glass.]

It must have been a very close thing, that injury. I'm glad you lived to tell the tale.

[Gods above, the way he was feeling in this moment was wildly inappropriate.]