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On a hot day in late summer, Gabriel was kicking his heels, seated on top of a hotel bed.

"We're only here for a few days," Lawrence was explaining. He was pacing the floor, not in the fierce way that people did on TV, but in that smooth, almost offhand manner of his, where he could convince you that he wasn't pacing, if you didn't know him well.

Unfortunately, Gabriel had known him for many years. Years enough to know that he was at least a little troubled.

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"Now, I know you're a model leader," said Lawrence. "And you've been the picture of patience thus far."

"I'll behave," said Gabriel softly. He knew what Lawrence wanted from him. It was mostly the same, if he was being perfectly honest. Don't talk to strangers. Don't consort too closely with anyone outside the Church. And, of course, don't wander off--- that was the big one. It was more of a big deal in places they'd never been before, but even at home...

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Lawrence broke into a smile. He might not have paced like a TV actor, but he had a TV smile, all of his teeth perfectly white and uniform and shiny. Gabriel had always thought his smile was very full of teeth. "That's what I like to hear," he said, extending a hand to ruffle Gabriel's hair. "Where would I be without you?"

Gabriel had answers to that question, but he knew it was rhetorical. Instead, he ventured a question. "Can I go outside?" he said. "Not far, and I'll tell a follower where I'm going. I just want to get some fresh air."

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He spoke quickly--- at least, by Gabriel's standards. Gabriel never spoke very quickly, and never very loudly at all, but there were less pauses between his sentences than there generally were. He could already see Lawrence's brows knitting together in the beginnings of a frown, and part of him had been worried he wouldn't get everything out before Lawrence told him no.

Lawrence didn't tell him no. At least, not straight away. The crease between his brows didn't smooth, but at least he looked as though he were thinking about it.

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Probably he was weighing the costs and the benefits. Lawrence did that. He had a degree in... law, or maybe business, or maybe business law, so he did things like weigh the costs against the benefits, and advise the Church on how to plan their recruitment campaign for maximum impact.

After a moment, Lawrence sighed, which probably meant the answer was yes. It was funny, that--- he would smile when he had to break the bad news to Gabriel, and sigh when he had an answer Gabriel wanted to hear.

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"Alright," he said, a little reluctantly. "But you must report to one of the followers. I don't want you wandering outside and getting kidnapped or something with none of us the wiser, alright?" And he tweaked Gabriel's cheek, as if Gabriel was still a toddler who didn't know any better.

He was thirteen this year, Gabriel thought. But it was also true that his face was still round and soft and younger looking than it should have been at his age. Not unlike a little cherub, as some of the Church's other officials liked to point out.

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Lawrence liked to tell Gabriel that any kidnapper would take one look at him and decide he was the one. The officials told him he must get his looks from his father's side. Gabriel had never met his father, but he knew what they were implying.

But then, he'd seen baby pictures of his mother too. If anything, he thought he took after her. And the parts that were from his father... Lawrence knew about these. He told Gabriel to keep them to himself, since they weren't cute or cherubic at all.

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Being treated like a child made Gabriel uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything. He had gotten what he wanted, and this much was enough. "I will," he said.

"Good," said Lawrence. "I have to run, but be back by seven, alright?" Lawrence didn't wait for an answer, merely straightening his tie--- almost by reflex, Gabriel thought--- and walked out the door.

Gabriel stared at the closed door for a moment, before turning to stare out the window instead. It was brilliantly sunny out right now, but clouds hung in the sky in great white drifts.

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It wasn't the weather he would have wanted, but it wasn't the worst either. And it would be warm. Not the worst day to go out.

He wrote a note on the hotel notepad in the room, and left it taped to the next door over, where he knew some of the other officials were staying. Then he slipped down the stairs, past the lobby, and out of the building and onto the waiting beach, taking in a deep gulp of the salty sea air.

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The property they had ended up renting from was a beachside one, but only because there were practically no hotels anywhere else in this town. It wasn't as expensive as it could have been, since tourism wasn't big here. The beaches weren't the scenic kind either, filled with gravel and rotting seaweed and the big shallow lots where the water was dried for salt. It wasn't nice to look at.

How fortunate, then, that Gabriel wasn't here to look at the sea.

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In fact, the ugliness of it, this very practical beach that was worn with use and industry, was perfect for him. He had no interest in the salt, but it kept the people away. Fewer people to bother him... and fewer kidnappers, perhaps. Or perhaps not. Did kidnappers like places without a lot of people?

The note probably wasn't the way that Lawrence wanted him to tell a follower where he was going either, come to that. But it would get the job done.

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And Gabriel knew Lawrence well enough to know that the discrepancy between what Lawrence had wanted and what he had done was only enough to warrant a light reminder, and not a real scolding. Not a restriction of his privileges, surely.

Gabriel kicked a stone down the sidewalk as he walked along the beach. There really weren't any people in sight aside from the odd individual working the salt pans. There weren't any piers for fishing along this stretch, and most of the fishermen went out in little boats anyway.

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There were a few boats dotting the horizon right now, their occupants little more than specks. It must not have been a good time for fishing, Gabriel thought.

There was nowhere to sit--- at least, nowhere proper, where Lawrence wouldn't have tutted over the idea of Gabriel dirtying his clothes. But Lawrence wasn't here, and Gabriel wasn't so picky. His clothes were nice, but he had plenty of them, and he didn't love them the way that Lawrence loved all the suits he wore.

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There would always be more clothes if these ones got ruined too badly to wear. He didn't know when he would next be able to get away like this. It was a small price to pay, all things considered.

And so Gabriel sat on a concrete shelf, below which the beach sprawled. Probably a measure to stop the water if it ever got stormy, or something like that. He remembered reading about it before, though he couldn't remember what exactly it was called.

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He kicked his feet for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the way his heels thumped back down on the concrete wall. This wasn't something he couldn't do within the confines of his life at the Church--- at least, when he was alone, anyway.

When he was younger, he was told that fidgeting during public appearances was 'unbecoming' of a holy child. And in private the adults didn't like the noise... But Gabriel was left to his own devices often enough, and on those occasions, he could fidget as he liked.