Gabriel shut the door behind him as he entered his bedroom. The very last thing he needed at the moment was more of Jack's scolding, or more of McCree's offended screaming. He was so tired of the media; Just for an hour,-one hour, that's all-he wanted tranquility.

The man disrobed and fit himself into something more comfortable than his gear, setting the latter on his bed and deciding to tend to it later. He stepped out of the bedroom and began walking, though he wasn't entirely sure where to. Truthfully, Gabe didn't have a destination in mind; his focus was too centered on the silence that engulfed him to care about nonsense topics like where he was headed.

As he walked, he ran his fingers over the stubble coating his cheeks. When was the last time I shaved? he asked himself. Before he could turn back and tend to his facial hair, Gabriel found himself striding into the Dining Hall, realizing for the first time that night just how hungry he was.

The room was completely barren, though he expected as such, considering how late in the night it was. The smell of food lingered no more in the cafeteria and was instead replaced with the harsh scent of cleaning products. Only a single row of beams was to illuminate the massive area, causing most of the space within to be shrouded in darkness. He made his way to the refrigerator located behind the counter on the left side (also the best lit side) of the room, opening its chrome door upon arrival. The contents mostly consisted of containers of leftover food, each adorning a sticker with a date written in a different penmanship for each plastic box. Gabe pulled out a container of pasta and placed it on the countertop behind him, shutting the fridge door in the process. "Hello, C-"

"Jesus Christ." he breathed.

He jumped.

He jumped like a little fucking kid at the sound of her voice.

Gabriel turned around and was met with a very confused, very startled Moira O'Deorain standing in the doorway that led to the dimly-lit kitchen. "My apologies," she told him, "I didn't mean to frighten you." The Commander gave a breathy chuckle, his heart continuing to beat a mile a minute. "You're quieter than Genji."

The woman had a blanket-the same blanket she pulled over the mattress in Venice, he noted-draped over her shoulders, and she held in her hands a small bowl of grapes and cheese slices, spearing a piece of each with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"It's fine," he sighed after a pause, "you didn't mean to do it." He turned to the cupboards and opened a few, searching for a plate as her eyes followed his movements. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who changed into their nightwear and went in search of food," Moira sounded, a lilt present in her voice. Gabe laughed as he found his desired item and began shoveling noodles onto his plate with a fork. "Well, you know what they say: 'great minds think alike.'" It was her turn to laugh. "I suppose you are correct, Gabriel."

He placed his food in the microwave a few cabinets down, and putting in his desired time, asked her, "Are you doing anything?"

"I was watching a documentary, nothing spectacular. I suppose not to you, anyways."

"Yeah? What were you watching?" She raised her eyebrows and her eyes darted to the side as her face switched to a shade of red.

She blushed.

Gabriel has never, ever seen her blush.

Her pale complexion caused what would have been pink to become a relatively dark red that traveled across her cheeks, around her eyes, and along her forehead.

"It sounds childish when put into words," the Doctor smiled sheepishly. He folded his arms against his chest and chuckled. "What, is it porn? That's pretty normal, if you ask me."

"No, it's..." she paused and looked to him. "It's a documentary about the dinosaurs." Another pause. "They're such fascinating creatures, but what truly amazes me is how far paleontology has advanced. With each decade passed, we've come a step closer to completely understanding these long-extinct animals. Imagine, Commander: we're only a meter's length away from resurrecting some of these creatures; how incredible is that?"

Passion poured off her tongue as she spoke, so much so that Gabe was almost able to feel her enthusiasm.

The microwave began its signature beep, beep, and as he removed his food from the machine, he explained to Moira, "That is amazing. I'm not sure I want a horde of giant chickens running around getting shot by bastion units, though."

"That wouldn't be a pleasant experience."

he speared a noodle and brought it to his mouth. "Are you alright after what happened in Rialto?"

"Oh, please," she retorted, "I'm fine. You should be asking the Cowboy that question."

"I don't think he's speaking to me at the moment."

"Then let's take that as a blessing." He chuckled at her ever-present, ever-blatant disgust towards McCree. "The wrong one died."

Moira raised her eyebrows. "I never expected something so grim from you, Commander."

Did he really just say that?

Gabriel shook his head, shutting his eyes a bit too tightly. "Fuck, I..." he sighed. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry. I think I'm just tired."

"It's alright, I understand." She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Now that you mention it, you do look exhausted." Moira smirked. "Go and get some sleep, Gabriel."

Oh.

He sighed. "You're right, you're right."

Oh, God.

She began walking towards the exit. "Have a good night, Commander."

The way she said his name.

"Good night."

It made his heart skip a beat.