[Michael notes the flush of his brother's cheeks, but attributes it to adrenaline from his current situation, rather than from his touching his wings. He didn't know they were sensitive, or that his running his fingers over them was causing any reaction.

He grips both of Gabriel's shoulders, wincing at freak, and he wants nothing more than to pull his brother against him and tell him everything will be alright. But, he's more practical than that, and he knows that it won't be. At least, not for a long time.]

Did you do it on purpose, Gabriel? Intent is important when it comes to guilt. You can feel bad that the man is dead, but, you didn't know you had the wings. How to control them.

Playing human? Gabriel, I don't understand.

[Michael'd had strange dreams the night before, flashes of metal and black, and had woken up with the lingering scent of blood and death surrounding him. He'd analyzed it, assumed it to be stress related and that he was watching too much television, and had forgotten it.

But, he wouldn't call it a memory, even if it were vivid. And now this was happening with his brother.]

We shouldn't stay here. In the alley and out in the open.