The sound Gavriel made was not words. It was the noise a man makes when his soul briefly leaves his body. The sound of twenty-three years of reckless confidence meeting sudden, catastrophic accountability.
He hunched over, both hands cupping himself, and collapsed sideways onto the floor next to Serena with his knees drawn up and his mouth frozen in a perfect O of silent agony.
"Both of you," he wheezed from the floor, voice three octaves higher than normal, "are fucking insane."
Serena started laughing. It hurt. Everything hurt. Her ribs, her jaw, her nose, her throat where Bellatrix's fingers had been. But she couldn't stop.
Gav watched her, and then he was laughing too, one hand still pressed protectively between his legs, shoulders shaking.
"I hate this family," he managed between breaths. "I hate this courthouse. I hate this floor. And I especially hate that I can't get up right now because my entire lower body has left the chat."
