Cassiel's mouth firms in disapproval as he glances over at the hecklers, more concerned that Gabriel might do something he'll regret later (and, as a distant second, for the welfare of those people who would probably be on the receiving end of Gabriel's temper).

Despite their discomfort, there's no pain. Their wounds are sealed, they're in perfect condition - or as good as they're going to get. They brush their hair back, flipping it over their shoulders.

"It will be easier this time, Gabriel." They stretch their limbs, letting the sun's warmth soak into their skin, the strange air helping to loosen their muscles as they breathe it in. "We aren't fighting to the death."

They flash him a smile, surprisingly cocky given everything. But it's a good day, and they are alive to see it; it's better than they thought they'd get. It feels like forgiveness of its own.

Besides, if they don't do this then Gabriel will probably splatter someone across the grass and then get upset about it immediately afterwards.

"Unless you think you'll lose? To me?"