It's cold out. This would bother a human.

Gabriel doesn't feel the cold. He's dressed, as always, in white t-shirt and blue jeans. He doesn't own anything else, and he doesn't have any money anyway. Even if he had money, he'd probably spend it on piano music.

He isn't exactly what you'd call sensible.

The setting is an almost-frozen pond and a park bench and a tiny flock of ducks that want feeding.

Gabriel wishes he has bread to feed them. That's what you feed ducks - bread. He remembers that. (Though not much else.)

"Aren't you cold?"
The accented voice is all innocent concern, the delicate features open and faintly inquiring as Bo leans over the back of the bench and looks sideways into Gabriel's face.

Hmm.
He...it? The person smells strange.

Gabriel frowns, puzzled, at such a complicated question.

A human would be cold. So the right answer is....

"...yes?"

He hopes he got that right. Keeping his secret is very complicated.

Well, Bo isn't dressed too warmly, but he isn't cold; he's not human. It wouldn't disturb him.
But he is wearing a sweater.

"Would you like to borrow my sweater?"
Since he's maybe cold?

Bo is an angel too, you know. Different kind entirely. But still.

Would he like to borrow the sweater?

He inspects the sweater. It's quite blue.

"I'd appreciate it."

It would make his disguise much more thorough.

Frown.

"Wouldn't you be cold?"

He isn't stupid, remember, just very young.

"My temperature runs quite high."
Some humans are like that too.

He takes it off. It's some sort of light, fluffy knit that goes on soft as a dream but is nevertheless quite warm. He hands it to Gabriel.
"I'll be fine."

"Okay," he says agreeably.

He shrugs it on, smooths it down. His movements are unthinkingly graceful and considered.

He smiles down at the sweater. He likes it. He likes it very much.

Bo made him happy.
That makes Bo happy.
On impulse, he smooths his hand over Gabriel's shoulder.
"Keep it."

Startled glance - both at touch and words.

That's the first time anyone's ever touched him.

He finds himself speechless.

But if he could say something, he would say thank you.

"Oh!"
He draws back. Oh dear. What just happened?
"I'm sorry."

"No- I mean- that's- not-"

He bites down on the words that insist on not coming out in the wrong order.

"I mean, I don't - I didn't mind." Pause. He's having trouble with that. "I was startled."

That's all. That was coherent, too, about which he's very proud.

Bo smiles reassuringly (though his teeth are awfully sharp).
"I didn't mean to startle you, then. What is your name?"

Gabriel smiles back, and it is forgotten.

He doesn't brood.

"Gabriel. What's yours?"

"Bo."
He holds his hand out to shake. Or kiss. Or even just clasp for a moment. Whatever greeting seems most appropriate.

Gabriel meets the hand halfway automatically.

Some things he still knows how to do. Not like driving - he doesn't even remember he could drive, but he remembers to shake hands, and how.

"Nice to meet you," he says, and again, it's automatically warm and friendly.

He was gregarious, once.

"You too."
So polite!

Bo pads around the bench and sits down beside Gabriel.
"What brings you out here in this weather?"
What are you, who are you, why are you so strange?

"I... wanted to...."

He looks uncertain, and perhaps worried.

"I didn't have a reason. Do I need one?"

So many things he doesn't know in this wide world. It would bother him, if things bothered him.

"No, of course not."
Bo wants to touch him again, because touch comes so naturally, and because...because.
"It is perfectly acceptable to come here with no purpose in mind. It is a lovely place."

He nods enthusiastically.

"It is! I'm glad I found it."

It was chance, really.

"Have you come to the city recently, then?"
An unfamiliar face, unfamiliar with the landscape. Bo would like to take him under his wing. So to speak.

"I've been here six months."

That's the truth and it keeps his secret!

He is proud of himself for coming up with the right phrasing.

"And you've never been to the park?" Bo is smiling rather bemusedly, but kindly. "My, my. Do you need someone to show you around?"

Nod.

"I was staying with a man, but he died."

He's a bit at a loss.

It should be noted that he doesn't know that people don't talk calmly about death. He never liked the man he lived with, so why should he be upset?

"Oh," Bo's face transitions with lovely grace from curiosity to sorrow. "I'm...sorry..." but he hesitates, and his expression turns to confusion. Gabriel doesn't seem too broken up about it.

"It's alright. We didn't like each other."

That doesn't actually make death alright, Gabriel.

He thinks that perhaps he should clarify. "It was a car accident. He was crossing the street. The car hit him. He died."

I was there. I saw it.

"Oh. I..."
Bo is strange about death. He's wobbly. Casting about.
"I..."
What? What's going on?
How does one respond to this?

"Are you alright?"

Gabriel is concerned.

"Mm?" A near-frightened smile. "Yes. Quite all right. I'm just...I suppose I'm a bit confused."

Frown.

"I'm sorry...."

He doesn't know how else to explain.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Unconsciously, he massages his chest just below his throat. Two deaths weigh heavy on his mind today, and it doesn't take much to remind him.
"So, er..."
He doesn't know how to springboard from there.

Gabriel is desolate.

He upset his new (and only) friend.

Don't look so sad!
"I'm sorry." Smile! "What do you like to do, Gabriel?"

"I play the piano. And wander."

Wandering is fun.

"That's a lovely talent." he smiles. "I spend quite a lot of time wandering myself."

"I would like to wander in your company sometime."

He phrases things oddly and is a bit forward.

He's young. He'll learn.

That earns him an absolutely delighted smile.
"I'd like that. Very much."

"So would I."

Gabriel is rather proud of himself for coming up with such a brilliant idea.

Now, what follows this...

"Would you like my phone number, then?"
Bo is very patient. It gives him a smooth, calm feeling inside, one that he's been lacking for some time now.

Pause.

Phones.

Yes, he knows how to use a phone. He didn't until this moment, but he does now.

"Yes... I'd like that."

He didn't know he'd like that, but he would.

"All right."
Bo digs around in the blue satchel at his side for a moment and comes out with a scrap of paper and a miniature pen, on which he scribbles his number and his name.
"Here you are."