Ethan stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar for the third time.
"It's fine," Gabriel called from the kitchen.
"It's crooked."
"It's not."
"It feels crooked."
Gabriel appeared in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, already dressed in a charcoal suit that fit him like it had been tailored by someone who understood physics.
He looked annoyingly put-together.
"You're nervous," he observed.
"I'm not nervous."
"You've changed shirts twice."
"I was… experimenting with options."
Gabriel's mouth twitched. He set down his mug and crossed the room, reaching up to straighten Ethan's collar—which was, in fact, perfectly fine.
"There," he said, smoothing the fabric. "Perfect."
Ethan caught his wrist. "What if I mess up?"
"You will. Everyone does on their first day."
Ethan groaned. "That's not comforting."
