[Surely, Gale deserved that response. Worse than. He drops his gaze, his chest growing suddenly tight in a way he hasn't felt in years, and he curls his fingers under, white-knuckled.]

My options were few. I do, however, know better than to expect you to believe me.

[He lifts his eyes to meet Godfrey's once more, holding his gaze steady before he lets out a sigh and draws back to his full height, proceeding to circle around the table to where Godfrey remains bound. There's a light tug at the straps of his muzzle as he works at its fastening, clenching his jaw.]

Regardless, we'll not talk while you still have this on.

[Ridiculous— though he knows precisely what his kin fear might spill from Godfrey's lips. The straps of the muzzle fall away and he pulls it free, the brush of the man's pale hair against his fingers hauntingly, achingly familiar.

There were few nights since their last meeting that he hadn't thought about Godfrey, but never like this.]