The more Gabe spoke, the more sullen Niles became. There once had been a time when such harsh things out of Gabe's mouth would have had Niles looking like he'd swallowed his own tongue. But he was used to it, now. At least to the point that he didn't choke at hearing it.

He doesn't look at his friend, even as he can feel that gaze on him even more readily than the weight in his lap. He tried to keep a barrier between him and the image Gabe seemed intent on conjuring. He downed the rest of the drink in one gulp. But the cringe the burn pulled from him lasted far too long. The image tangled with what he didn't want to think about. It was so hard to not think of what it felt like. And the terror that came with it. And suddenly, Gabe's weight on his lap wasn't as welcome as it had been. It was oppressive and claustrophobic. And Niles had trouble breathing.

He planted a hand on Gabe's chest, trying to push him off, but his arms felt weak. "Stop," he breathed out. "That's not...not what I...just...don't."