Gabriel stiffened a little before relaxing slightly and extending his wing to brush against his brother's palm. The touch was calming, but there was only so much it could do against Lucifer's words and the turmoil they raised in Gabriel.

"Father did," he whispered, feeling pinned and vulnerable under that gaze and yet wanting to lose himself in it. "So that we might overcome our imperfections and have something to work towards." It seemed a strange reasoning even to him, now. What was perfection, besides Him? His Son? Michael?