"No, Niles," And Gabe speaks with such softness, a lullaby in his words alone. Brushes fingertips along the other's shoulders, planting strings in each part of Niles' framework to make him dance later on. "I have a better idea." He reassures Niles with a smile. Comes back with a bottle of old-fashioned port and one, single crystalline tumbler.

He sets the bottle and glass down on the table, ignoring the others. Ignoring the lipstick for now. Gabriel opens the bottle, pours. Fills the tumbler and hands the glass to Niles, taking a swig from the bottle.

"We drink right here. I already poured it, so don't be rude."