Just like that. Gabe couldn't dodge and, he realised, wasn't going to lie. It made his fingers fumble on the vial of blood, making it spin lazily on the benchtop, and he kept his hands well away from the gilded receptacle. Pressed them against the edge of the bench, leaned against it, and said, just as quietly and not looking over at William, "Yeah."
Thing was, he'd never thought he subscribed to the rhetoric of his mother's family, about how wizards were just different from Muggles. But he didn't have the words in any of the languages available for him to plunder to convey how wrong this felt.
"I got this out of myself." He flicked a finger towards the spangled liquid, voice flat. "Kinda fucking beautiful, isn't it?"
One of the guys in the Balkans had begged Gabe to send him a sample in exchange for his advice. Fuck maintaining the relationship; Gabe was destroying every last drop the minute he didn't need it any more.