“Yes.” Gavin agreed. He was close enough that Matthew could smell his breath. It wasn’t entirely fresh, but it was sweet. A weird sweet, the kind of sweet that a mind associated with sharp wine—by nose sweet to the point of cloying, by taste dry to the point of tears.
“Tell me, Matthew. Are they scared stiff or have they been charmed?”
Gavin was uncomfortably close but Matthew didn’t move away. Short of standing and walking away from the bed (which he refused to do because he didn’t want to make it seem like he was giving Gavin any more control of the situation), he couldn’t. He’d fall right off the corner of the mattress and look like a blinking fool if he shifted even a couple of inches. “They’re assessing. Waiting to see if the circumstance requires fight or flight. Nothing more, nothing less.”