He had had it planned out. Swallowed his pride over that one time Uriel had called him a sodomite. Then his dear, gentle brother cast that piteous look over him.

Funny. Was that his pride he tasted wrenching itself back up his throat?

Zechariah ran fingers through his hair, looking mournfully to that bottle before meeting his gaze again with renewed vigor.

“You have a new niece or nephew on the way.”