"Fine." It was automatic, but it wasn't even a lie. Gabe hadn't hurt him; not really hurt him, the way William was sure he was capable of. He was remarkably calm now that it was all over, and most of that was due to the fact that there was a solid kernel of certainty at his core that was convinced Gabe never could hurt him.
His hand was squeezing a little, over the tender skin beneath his chin. He dropped it abruptly, clearing his throat with another rough noise that seemed to jump-start his voice back into properly functioning.
"I knew better." And he did, was the thing. He should have known not to draw a wand in the middle of an argument, on someone who'd been fighting on the front lines of a war for several years. He knew what not to do around Pete, and Brendon. He'd just been stupid. And lucky; if it hadn't been Gabe - there was that unshakable certainty again - and the situation had been different, he could have ended up seriously injured.