Gabriel had dressed quietly and formally by the time the clock struck seven. No regal embroidery, no hint of royal favor, just a dark suit with clean lines and a crisp white shirt buttoned to the throat. He looked every inch the man who had built his position through intelligence, not blood.
He made his way through the eastern corridor of the Ministry building, pausing near the large arch of stained glass that bathed the hallway in morning hues. There, already waiting with a steaming cup in hand and a folder tucked beneath her arm, stood Anabelle Sinclair.
"Long time no see," said Gabriel, grinning with his arms open for a hug.
Anabelle raised an eyebrow at him and handed him a cup of coffee, ignoring the hug. "No offense, Gabriel, but I would like to see my daughter's wedding."
Gabriel chuckled and took the cup with a small nod of surrender. "Noted. I'll keep my arms to myself."
