{May, 1909}
"...And that's why I'd always choose Hell!" John finished, making De'van and Vincent burst out laughing, at the same time that Gabriel wandered, sleep-drunk, from his room. He was still in his dress pants and button-down, but he had at least removed his jacket and undercoat.
"Speaking of 'coming back', look who's no longer dead!" Vincent crowed to the young man, who flipped him off as he stumbled for the kettle containing the bittersweet, delicious promise of life: coffee.
"Right back at you, pal." Vincent grinned, a little sadistically when Gabriel turned the pot over his cup, only to have nothing come out.
"Whichever of you boneheads took all the coffee and didn't make more, I'm going to shank." Gabriel growled viciously, slamming the pot down and rifling through the cupboards for more grinds.
"Oh, calm down Gabe." De'van stood up, walking over to the shorter, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Here." He placed the bag of coffee on the counter in front of Gabriel. "Emil said that you needed a few minutes of panic, but I think that this is less panic and more murder."
"Yah' damn right." Gabriel snapped, taking the coffee, measuring and pouring the water into the kettle and setting it to heat before slumping in a chair at the table. Arms folded in front of him, Gabriel lay his head on the table, closed his eyes, and seemed to go back to sleep.
"That's your problem, Gabe." De'van noted.
"Whassat?" Gabriel slurred sleepily, one golden eye opening to a slit.
"You can stay up for hours, but after you sleep, it's all you want t' do." De'van reached over and patted the other between the shoulders, the people around the table laughing.
"Mock me all ya' like, I'm still the best translator here." Grumpily, Gabriel turned his head away from them. They all laughed at his childish display of irritation.
The tapping of feet announced a new presence in the room, one that moved with quick, distinct strides softer, but just as heavy as any of the men's.
"Well, someone get me a jitney!" Shay proclaimed in her black southern twang. "I didn't think I'd see me a shimmer of that golden hair before at least noon?"
"I got up before noon?" Gabriel groaned softly. "Cancel my coffee, I'm going back to bed."
"Unfortunately, I don't think that Curtis would appreciate that." Vincent sighed. "He keeps insisting that we have 'work' to do."
Gabriel let out an exaggerated, plaintive moan. "But sleep..."
"If I remember correctly, Gabe, we were on the opposite ends of this argument last night." Marcus grinned as he walked in, taking two mugs from the cupboard and pouring both himself and Gabriel a cup of coffee. "Shay, do we have any milk left?"
"I can't say we do, Mista' Brown." Shay answered, placing the coffee grounds in the cupboard, then turning around. "Gabriel, head up. Mista' Brown has got your coffee."
"Just pour it on me." Gabriel mumbled into the table. "I'm not getting up."
"Gabriel Moran!" Shay half-shouted, grabbing his ear. Gabe yelped as he was dragged into a proper sitting position, a cup of coffee slapped in front of him. "You have a job to do, you hear? Drink your coffee, and get out of my kitchen!"
"Yes Ma'am!" He obediently began to nurse his coffee, casting fearful glances over his shoulder at the ferocious older woman. "Fine, alright." He stood suddenly, all serious Gabriel again, narrowed, sharp eyes included. "Vincent, do me a favour. Send Winchester and Fletcher to the Archive for me." He picked up his coffee. "Tell them they've got ten minutes or I'm starting without them."
YOU ARE READING
Messenger of Letters
FanfictionWhen someone heard the name 'Gabriel', they might think of the Archangel. Fortunately, they'd be right. Ask a member of an old secret society, though, and they'd remember the name 'Gabriel Alexander Moran', an incredibly dangerous fighter and intell...
