Home. Gabriel's home, for sure. This was far too nice to be anywhere near where Dal lived. He sat on the bed, wobbled a little, and then took a look around to see what kind of place Gabriel called home.

Oh, but he's getting undressed. Dal helps how he can, sitting up a little off the mattress, lifting his arms over his head. He's a waif of a thing under his clothes. Thin, skinny even, just shy of looking malnourished. The sharp collar bones and faintly visible lines of his ribs only add to that look. There are more bruises to be found, too: wrists, shoulders, something that looks suspiciously like finger impressions around the base of his neck, like someone held down with their weight behind it.

And in his current state of mind, being undressed like that's definitely got him thinking one thing. Even like this, his instinct is to turn it on, going all half-lidded smiles and being oh-so-solicitous in the way Dal drapes his arms over Gabriel's shoulders. The smile on his lips is different than the sort he normally gives to Gabriel, his eyes are distant in a way that has nothing to do with whatever he's been drugged with. It's like the light in them suddenly dimmed.