restoration.

         ––  𝑮𝑨𝑬𝑳 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑶 .

NAME: GAEL LEAL BLANCO AGE: 40 YEARS OLD ORIENTATION: PANSEXUAL & PANROMANTIC RESIDENCE: BROOKLYN, NEW YORK OCCUPATION: PAINTINGS & SCULPTURES CURATOR @ THE MOMA MARITAL STATUS: DIVORCED CHILDREN: CARLA (DAUGHTER, 19) & NANDA (DAUGHTER, 12)

        –– 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀  .

Gael is almost too personable. Quick to smile and crack a joke like he's known you a lifetime, it's easy to think he is a charismatic fellow. He can also be accused of being spontaneous, though the truth of it is more of an impulsive streak. Gael tends to think before he acts, and lacks a filter in his mind before he speaks. An artist at his core, he can often lean into the eccentric artiste trope, even though he has left his aspirations of producing original work and being known for it long ago. Deep down, he holds some resentment and frustration over never achieving professional prowess through that lane, despite being a respectable and fairly decent curator. As it stands, he is lacking the imagination and inspiration to make his own work again and have his name be recognized for it.

~ * ~

“Well,” she started, a soft chuckle sounding from her at him holding his chest; “of course we’ll dance! I mean, there’s no way we won’t –” she’d been afraid of this; afraid of being confronted with the memory of that night and the dance they shared that ended painfully awkward and confusing. Unfortunately for her, the confusion had yet to settle. “I just meant the couples dance, it’s probably gonna be some slow ballad or something anyway, so it won’t matter.”

But it did matter. To her, it mattered. Especially because if they, somehow, to her trepidation, did end up dancing during the couples dance – it mattered that it was him. Everything having to do with Gael mattered, even down to the way he released her just then and how she had a feeling he started picking up on her apprehension.

They headed down, Gael introducing her to the rest of his family – aunts, cousins, uncles, grandparents; one of his aunts asking ‘is this your new girlfriend, Gaelito?’  before they even reached her. They stammered over one another’s words in response and thankfully, it seemed like his aunt got the message – that they were definitely not dating and were only good friends. But something told Adrina his aunt, and those sitting around her, didn’t believe them for a second.

When all was said and done, beers were had, food was eaten, Adrina, who held her phone in hand, saw the bright white numbers on its screen read 7:52. She and Gael were sat beside one of his cousins and the two were in conversation about something having to do with Star Wars. She leaned in, her shoulder brushing against his to catch his attention. 

“It’s eight o’clock,” she placed her empty bottle of Dos Equis on a nearby patio table, she lowered her voice as she continued; “I think I’ll head home, grab some stuff and then you can text me when you’re done and ready to meet up?”

.

While they were making the rounds with family members who all asked the same question, or tip-toed around it in an obvious way, Gael had to wonder if this had been his mother's plan all along. At every new "this your girlfriend?" or some variation of it, he couldn't help but search for Lena in the crowd, who always seemed to be looking away from them but with some undeniable smugness to her. Oh, he'd have a talk with her tomorrow. There was absolutely no way something wasn't up. 

A more pertinent thought than whatever his mother's plan was, was that the discomfort he'd felt throughout the afternoon had more to do with saying he and Adrina were not together than admitting to the opposite. Every time the clarification had been made, it failed to sit well with him. The fact that she seemed to get along perfectly with his entire goddamn family did not help in those matters, making that pesky thought invade his mind again: this makes sense. 

It had taken him a fair amount of mental gymnastics to push away such thoughts, deep diving into conversations and letting himself get lost in them instead. He was, in fact, in the process of a heated argument with a cousin when she calls his attention. "No, Poe Dameron is the better pilot! Don't you-" Her presence makes his argument come to a halt. Gael turns to her, stealing a glance at his wristwatch before he nods accordingly. "Yeah, sounds good." He agrees, now smiling at the prospect. "Let me walk to the door."

~ * ~

If he hadn’t been looking at her, she would’ve gulped and held her breath at the feel of his hand around her waist, but she feigned amusement instead, not wanting to give him any excuse not to be so forward. As much as she wanted to follow the rules (or at least some semblance of her did), to not fall deeper into this than she already was, she reveled in his touch and in his forwardness. God, this was such a confusing position to be in.

“Oh, no,” she laughed quietly, “don’t give me an excuse to find someone else,” she teased and then she paused, her smile fading slightly; “everyone is going with their partner, you know? Like husband, girlfriend, significant other, and you know, at weddings, they do that stupid couple dance and all the couples go up and blah blah. Well, I didn’t want to be the only loser sitting alone. Honestly, I probably would’ve just gotten drunk off Rosé or something and called it an early night,” she laughed lightly, but there was pity in her tone. “And I know we’re not a couple, obviously, so we won’t dance during that whole thing but, at least I won’t be alone.”

-

"You can't do that to me now, you've already promised me an all-inclusive trip to PR." He argues without much severity – if any at all –  and lets his gaze fall as he nods to her words. Gael realizes that holding her was indeed a breaking of rules, and with a quick peek at the still closed door, he lets go of her altogether. "Wait, wait, hold on." He intervenes, waving a hand that begs for the expansion of said point. When his eyes meet hers, there's a spark of mischief in his. "You mean you're gonna drag me all the way to Puerto Rico for a wedding with dancing and tell me that we won't dance?" He holds his hand to his heart, feigning affront. 

~ * ~

Her hand mindlessly reached out and hit him playfully on the arm – god, he was cute, sure, okay, but why’d he have to hold off so long? Clearly, Gael knew just how anxious Adrina seemed to skirt through life. Maybe it was something else – maybe a blend of wanting to trigger her paranoia and something else, something that had she listened to the thought, looked a lot like elation from being asked. She added this to the list of things to ignore, deciding he’d been happy about the all-inclusive part.

And then his hand caressed her cheek – and she was, again, plagued by wishes and thoughts of what ifs and yeah, buts. Part of her wanted to start dating again, actively. Part of her wanted to find someone else right away and give him the excuse that they couldn’t do this anymore because it killed her because she was involved with someone else but the idea upset her – to have to give Gael up. It seemed no one else could replace the way he made her feel.

“You’re a pendejo, you know that,” she grinned, her eyes falling for a moment only to meet his again. Kiss him – the thought came and went and as much as she wanted to, the barbecue was a good enough excuse not to give in to temptation, only to regret it later. “I seriously thought you were gonna say no and it felt like freakin’ prom all over again. I didn’t even go to prom,” her voice lowered and she found her eyes couldn’t leave his. “Thank you,” she paused, “now I won’t feel pathetic being the only person without a plus one.”

- 

He recognized there had to be something more to this impulse he had of always having to be close to her, of always needing to touch her, to hold her. Being an affectionate person wasn't all there was to it; Gael hardly behaved in such a way around anyone else. But whenever he was with Adrina, it took a herculean amount of willpower to not give in to that insatiable desire of always being close. Even as he realizes this and knows he should not go deeper into it, he retracts his hand from her cheek only to let it rest against the small of her back. Not so secretly, he begins to count down the minutes until they can get out of there and be truly alone. 

Chuckling as she hits his arm, he shrugs his shoulders innocently and only looks all the more guilty for it. "What did I do?" He utters the classic line, not bothering to put any real conviction behind it. For a second there, he catches her gaze slipping; even feels himself lean in for half an inch, but stops on his tracks as she clearly decides against it. 

~ * ~

Okay, maybe she’d give it another watch, she thought, her eyes fixed on the painting when she suddenly felt him beside her. She peered at him, her eyes now studying his features as intently as she had been the painting and it was only when he brought it up that she turned back to look at it. She smiled at his comment, sighing softly before saying, “I’m glad you went about it the wrong way though, otherwise,” she looked at him again, “you wouldn’t be painting my stuff for Mar. And anyway, I love your work,” she knew he’d recoil at this but she continued anyway; “I don’t care what you think of your stuff…but I like it.”

She went back to studying him again, her eyes tracing the way his beard lined his jaw and the way his heavy eyes darted from spot to corner along the painting. Even tired, he was gorgeous. “I have a question,” she said suddenly, impulsively – almost regretting ever bringing it up, but then again, they were friends, weren’t they? Friends could ask friends the same question and it didn’t mean anything, right? 

“My, um, a friend of mine from culinary school, Xiomara, she’s getting married next month and sent me an invitation,” she inhaled, “she doesn’t know that Jake and I aren’t together, I mean I haven’t spoken to her in years but, she sent me two invitations, one for me and my plus one. I don’t know if you’ll be busy around that time and there’s a lot of details to go over and stuff but, I was wondering, if you maybe wanted to come with me? I mean, you don’t have to, of course. And you know, it’s just as friends, obviously,” she breathed, a smirk tugging her lips. “But I figured I’d ask, it’s all inclusive and the trip is paid for and everything. – Oh, it’s in Puerto Rico. But it’s only a weekend, from Friday and we fly back Monday morning,” she swallowed, “it’s no big deal if you don’t want to come though, I just thought I’d ask.”

- 

Right then, he found that it was becoming easier to take her compliments about his work. It doesn't fill him with dread to hear it, nor is he attacked by a wave of inadequacy as he so often was. Sure, he wasn't yet ready to agree with her, but wasn't willing to fight her on the matter either. Instead, Gael only looks her way with an appreciative smile. "Thank you." He decides that says enough, though he'd be just fooling himself. 

It doesn't take him a whole lot of effort to look away from the painting and comfortably rest his gaze on her instead; he'd much rather admire Adrina than the handiwork of a teenager with delusions of grandeur. "Hm?" He hums, eyebrows arching while awaiting the question. 

~ * ~

Adrina’s eyes bounced from place to place as soon as they entered, flitting from one thing to another; the lamp by the bedside table; framed prints of almost abstract, cubist art that judging by the P and then lazily scripted letters after, she guessed was Picasso; another painting of a guitar (this one a lot better looking than the guessed-Picasso ones, in her opinion); the desk; and then some photos of him and others with Nanda and Carla. She noticed right away that Marianne had been missing and she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him and how badly it seemed Marianne had ruined so much.

She did as prompted, way too curious not to, and opened the wardrobe, seeing an array of old band posters from Queen to The Smiths and her lips pulled into a small smile, picturing a young Gael head-bopping to Panic with headphones on, laying on the bed just behind him now. “I did see that, yeah,” she shut the wardrobe door, turning to look at him; “I think a painter with luscious, short hair looks good on you now, though,” her smile grew as her eyes continued to take in the room. She noticed the humor he injected any time he spoke of Marianne, noticed how he hopped to a different subject whenever she’d been brought up and it was hard for Adrina to hold her tongue – “you know who Marianne reminds me of? That evil stepmom in The Parent Trap, what was her name?” a beat, “Meredith! Meredith Blake! She sounds horrible,” she crossed her arms against her chest as she circled the room slowly, mindlessly rambling before pausing at the guitar painting, glancing at its texture; “like a wasp that won’t leave you alone and when you finally swat it, you get stung, so you’re putting up with double the amount of bullshit.”

-

"It is pretty luscious, isn't it?" Agrees the man with a smug smile, theatrically running his hands through his curls. Some of his humor is lost as she mentions Marianne, and Gael can't help the impulse to look over at the closed door that lead to the hallway. It had happened before that he and Lena were speaking of la diabla while Carla was around, many years ago. He could not have a repeat of that. But, rather than reprimanding Adrina for speaking the truth – he knew very well how Marianne could be, and what she sounded like to anyone who got close enough to him – he opts for the deflection. Always deflection. "Hey, come on – Meredith wasn't that bad." He says with a hint of a smirk to his lips, stepping closer to her. 

~ * ~

His reaction to the mention of Jake had definitely been welcome, but still, completely unexpected. Yes, Jake was definitely a dick but she had no idea Gael felt so…vehemently about it until now. It made her smile; her lips curving slightly as he continued about Joni Mitchell – and Adrina wondered if he, too, found it odd how quickly he voiced his opinion about her ex. And, well, when it came to Joni, maybe it was cliche and obvious but Blue had been her answer, followed by “Ladies of the Canyon is my second favorite though,” watching as just a few moments later, he took a few glances of the room they’d been in – her eyes following his to the people outside – before coming to a stand and following him up.

Umber hues followed the neutral painted walls of the stairway, then the upstairs hallway, pictures of Gael from almost every age lining the walls and decorations they held; baby Gael, child Gael, teenage Gael, and finally, young adult Gael. She grinned silently at what must’ve been a twenty-something Gael with long locks, tied into a bun, holding a huge fish in a river. It must’ve been Guatemala, she thought, finally reaching the door to his bedroom. “I seriously can’t believe they still have your bedroom up,” she laughed softly, waiting for him to open the door; “I would’ve taken it down years ago and turned it into an office or something.”

-

"They did that to my sister's room." He says without missing a beat, which almost made it sound like a joke, though the proof of it was in the neatly set up study just a door down. Gael stands before the door of his own, taken by a flush of modesty. "They had turned mine into storage for a few good years, but..." He opens the door, revealing a room that is not so untouched by time. It did seem like it was inhabited by a young man of some sort, there was a large bad with navy sheets, a desk, a wardrobe, some framed prints on the walls that happened to be Gael's favorite Picasso's, one odd painting of an electric guitar with signed with a GB in its corner, and quite the array of pictures of him from a distant past and a not so distant one. Him in his youth with friends (in what looked like a band) and his sister, then only a few years younger with the girls. No wedding pictures or the face of Marianne in sight. "I moved back in after my divorce. And before that… Marianne had this habit of kicking me out a lot. I started needing a break from home too often, so Ma started using the attic to store her contraband instead. The girls also stay here when they sleep over, it's kind of a guest room now."

~ * ~

“Disney Channel originals?” she asked, her brows perking humorously, until she realized the latter artist – “wait, Joni Mitchell?? You definitely have to play me some Joni. Jake hated when I listened to her but when he was gone and I was home alone, I played her shit so loud the neighbors heard it and I danced and sang all my frustrations out about him with my windows open and everything,” she grinned, though a part of her felt some sadness about the life she once lived. The girl she’d been at one point – sure, she was way more high strung then and completely and utterly depressed – but young Adrina had a carefree attitude that this Adrina now missed. What she did notice, however, was how somehow, with Gael’s presence, it was all coming back.

“We can drink passion fruit mojitos and shit talk our exes like we’re in high school,” she wanted to say more, to add to that – but had been too afraid of someone lurking around the corners of his parent’s home. Speaking of – “did you grow up here, by the way? Is your childhood bedroom still up?” She had a playful tone, “can I see it??”

-

"Listen, Nanda's very into them. I score points where I can." He justifies, waving his free hand matter-of-factly. "Wait, seriously?" One thing that should not surprise him by now was what a huge dick that Jake guy was, but the fact that he kept out-doing himself the more Gael heard about him certainly had a hook to it. "How much bigger of a dick can this guy be?" He asks, perhaps accidentally so, voicing his thoughts too freely. Though, before they got dragged into more less than pleasant talk, Gael draws up a smile and waggles his eyebrows at her. "So what's your favorite Joni album? The good thing here is there are legitimately no wrong answers."

~ * ~

Rejection was never easy; and though she knew and could see clearly in the way he looked at her, as if desperate to keep her safe, unharmed, that he meant well - his words; she’s got this habit of destroying every good thing in my life; making her feel more special than she thought she ever was to him; it was tough to swallow the fact that Adrina didn’t belong everywhere Gael did. It was a fact she needed to be reminded of constantly (apparently, as she kept hoping of other possibilities – much to her chagrin when alone) and so, in hindsight, the reminder was eventually welcome.

Us – another choice of word that confused her. Her mind wandered to forbidden territories – what did he mean by us? The way the word left his lips reminded her of lovers and yet, they were only friends. Us felt far too intimate, far too intimate to be something about people who were only friends. But then, in as quick as a blink, she dropped it, leaving well enough alone.

“Yeah,” the word left her softly, in a half-whisper. “I get it. She, um,” she looked at him, “she sounds like a lot of work,” and then she squeezed his hand, the corner of her lips pulling into a smirk, her gaze sympathetic as she again, took in his tired features. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with her. But hey, at least tonight we can have some fun – maybe make these passion fruit mojitos I’ve been obsessed with lately. And, you also have that guitar –” a mental glimpse of their dance in his place that night came to mind – “so maybe you can play some songs for me? And we can sing and dance and pretend this week never happened?”

-

Gael purses his lips intently, as if bracing himself for some inevitable wave of bad news that was about to hit him. There was a very real possibility that he had blown it, that he'd hurt her feelings in an attempt to shield them – and his own – from something much worse. He'd been reading to spill out words of comfort, explain everything further and try to make his point all the more clear when she speaks up again and silences the terrible scenarios his mind had conjured in such a small span of time. 

"That's… one way to put it, yeah." He agrees, looking down at their joined hands and forming a weak smile on his lips. There was no end to the list of insults he could come up with for Marianne, but he always checked himself before every single item. This is the mother of your children, he'd repeat like a mantra. Not thinking ill of her was a herculean task of its own. Everything that had to do with Marianne was, in fact, a hell lot of work. 

~ * ~

Her curiosity piqued at his words, her teeth grazing along her lower lip before curving them into a small smile. If she’d been outside of herself, watching the whole scenario, she’d have been ridiculously frustrated with how she carried this whole situation; she should’ve been concerned about the two of them carrying on this way and the major consequences it would have; she shouldn’t have been so happy when he asked her to come over later, to sleep over - deep down, she knew this would turn into a complete mess but like a pendeja - she just went along with it. It was only alone, with her thoughts completely to herself, that she found common sense.

“You have something for me?” Her smile grows; her mind all too eager in playing guessing games at what it might be. Maybe the paintings, she thought, seeing her hand had been only inches from his own, only inches – no one would notice if she just…

Her fingers reached out to his, brushing them lightly with her heart aflutter and she kept them there for just a few seconds before pulling away again, too paranoid that someone might just burst in on them – someone maybe being Nanda for the second time. God, that would’ve been a disaster – she almost shuddered just thinking about it. “I don’t mind going with you…” the words left her before she could stop them, “you know, to drop off Nanda. I mean, we could always tell her that I’m going over your place to see the paintings? Or that you’re dropping me off home or something?”

-

His nerves bubbled underneath, a lingering sense of anxiety he could not quite shake off. More to do with the thing he'd gotten her ( though gotten was not really the right word for it ) than anything else. Her smile does help, as always. The week's constant fighting over little things and resurfacing of old wounds had somewhat shattered Gael's armor and warped his reality. There had been points that felt like he was right back into the dark waters of his failed marriage, struggling for air. But here, with her, he could rise to the surface and breathe again. "I do, yeah." Gael repeats, a smile of his own now forming on his lips. Whatever her feelings on the gift, he was certain she wouldn't be cruel. That was good enough. 

His fingers seek out hers as second nature the moment they feel their touch, regretful that it lasts so little time. Eyes had fallen on her hand then, perhaps waiting for a moment to reach out and reconnect, but the unexpected suggestion makes his breath get caught in his throat, gaze instantly snapping back to her. 

"Oh, no, you can't..." Gael says too quickly, his head shaking. Takes him a moment to recompose, he inhales a sharp breath and ministers his faculties. "Marianne can't see you." It feels wrong to say so, as if she was a dirty secret he had to keep hidden, and it pains him that those are the words his idiotic mind had selected. "It's nothing to do with you, but we have this rule about the kids and the people we–" Date. Are in love with. People who will be in their lives more often. "She's been in the worst mood lately, and I know that whatever I tell her, she won't believe it. She will flip out on you and on me, and I can't do that to you." It's more selfish than he makes it out to be. Though there was certainly an urge to shield Adrina from his ex, the majority of him would just rather avoid another fight that would be greater than the others. 

🐝 ⠀  ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ───────────  it wasn’t often that gael was the one to initiate conversations. to be honest, they were certain he usually did a full 180, and pretended as if he never saw them whenever they came around. that was okay though, once trinity locked eyes on him there wasn’t a chance they’d leave before sharing their opinions with him. all he did by approaching them first was cut down on the cardio they usually had to do in chasing him around the museum. “ buddy ? ” they questioned more to themselves than to him; brows furrowed for a brief moment before they let it go with a shake of their head. either he wanted something or….─── well, there really wasn’t another option. it was clear that he wanted something. “ actually, i am very busy tonight. wanna know what i’m doing ? ── not whatever it is you’re about to ask me to do, doesn’t that sound exciting ? ” they teased as they pulled out their phone to bring up the upcoming exhibits page on the moma website. “ now, moving on to something more important…─── what is this ? ” the specific information on the exhibit they’d been referring to was pulled up and now at his eye level. “ why would you bring something like this in here ? i get that art can be weird, and subjective blah blah blah but this is just objectively bad. why this ? ”

-

~ * ~

You’d make a good mom - words she’d heard previously but that always brought a sort of emptiness. She knew she didn’t need kids, didn’t need to be married, didn’t need any of that stuff to feel whole but it was just something she felt more and more as she aged; something changed in her when she reached her late-twenties. She only smiled, a half smile, one tinged with yearning and melancholy, and she couldn’t help but think if this was all her life would be now, wanting things she couldn’t have and just dealing with it.

Adrina watched their little exchange, noting how Lena didn’t answer Gael’s question - not really, anyway; and she couldn’t help but wonder; curious as to her plan and curious as to whether or not this had anything to do with that night at Mar and Ryan’s stupid little comment. She decided that her flan recipe was absolutely not why she was invited, but decided to make nothing of it as she shrugged, responding with, “maybe I’ll hold out a little, can’t give you all my secrets,” a smirk played on her lips as she watched Lena take another bite of Gael’s flan.

Fernando’s voice rang through one of the cracked windows of the kitchen, calling for Lena to bring out the hotdogs and without a second wasted, she did so eagerly, giving Gael a little tap on his shoulder before making her way out. Adrina turned to face him, the smile she wore fading slightly, “they know something.”

-

Both Gael and Lena looked quite content with the cheek that Adrina had on her, exchanging an amused look between themselves. "I like her." Lena tells him, to which he replies. "I know, you invited her here without telling anyone." The smile disappears from his mother's face then, she mutters some whining under her breath, and not a moment too soon disappears back out into the backyard at the first chance she has. The woman never did well on the hot seat. 

He watches Lena leave with suspicion stamped all over his face, a sentiment he soon sees that Adrina shares once eyeing her again. "Yeah, I'm starting to think you're right." The man admits, letting his gaze shift between the crowd outside to his present company. "It may be a bad time for this, but..." He begins, leaning over the table and lowering his voice so only her ears would be concerned with it. "Do you wanna come over later? Or sleep over, if you want. I got… I got you something, and I wanted to give it to you."

~ * ~

For some reason, Adrina hadn’t counted on being asked the same question. It was just part of casual conversation, right? You ask one thing and usually the other person asks the same. But somehow - the fact escaped her. The entire time he spoke, she listened quietly, deeply, noting a Gael pre-Carla that maybe she wouldn’t have liked much. And a small smile found the corners of her lips, tugging them as he spoke of the cliches. But then his question came and she felt a light tension come over her - especially due to being asked by the man she’d been so hopelessly – no, not happening.

“Oh,” she sighed, blinking a few times, her face downcast. “I, yeah, actually. I mean, I did –” she inhaled, “I wanted kids for a long time when I was with Jake, but he was always saying we had no time for kids, yet; we couldn’t afford them, yet, on and on. Eventually, I just kinda gave up,” she shrugged a shoulder, her eyes in his direction now. “I’m actually glad we didn’t have kids together, honestly. I mean, I would love them regardless but it’s nice knowing I avoided having his children,” her eyes held an expression that said more than she needed to with words. “Anyway,” a beat, “I’m too busy now for kids,” the words left her wistfully. “I have the restaurant, my career – all my staff call me mom, or the mom friend, so I guess they’re good enough to fill in that place,” she stopped then, her teeth coming to graze and nibble along her lower lip and before she could say how she still wanted to be a mother, that she had even looked into adoption no more than a month ago, Lena walked in.

-

It's a moment where he doesn't quite know what to say, for once. Her words tell one story, her semblance and tone tell another. Gael watches the picture come together with all its inconsistencies and feels it tugging at his heartstrings. There was a visible air of melancholy to it all, some regrets that she was hiding. He thinks to offer a word of sympathy, perhaps say that he knows what it's like to raise a family with someone you don't like and how exhausting that is ( if the state of him today was anything, it was living proof of such ) but feels like it's not a sentiment worth expressing. He didn't regret a thing about his kids; it would just feel like he was rubbing something in her face. Finally, he nods quietly. "You'd make a good mom." Says the artist sincerely, offering her a smile. "Don't know about moming your staff, though. That Ryan guy? He might not like that." As always, he needed to throw in the one quip that would make it seem like he was never serious. God, this time he could almost hear Marianne's voice in his ear. Is everything a joke to you? 

Lena arrives before his inadequacies can settle in. She is lovely. Too lovely. Greets Adrina with a bright smile and moves to stand by Gael, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Are you feeling better, mijo?" He could've sworn there was something in her eyes at the question. Was it mischief? "Yeah, I'm fine." He says, with suspicion filling his own pair of brown eyes. "Hey, do you wanna tell me why you didn't say Adrina was gonna be here and told her I wasn't gonna be here either?" His voice sounds sweet while voicing the accusation, purposefully so. Lena shrugs all too innocently. "You were feeling so down lately, I thought a surprise visit from a friend would cheer you up." 

~ * ~

Adrina noticed how quickly Gael answered for Nanda, realizing she’d brought up a touchy subject, of course; just her luck, digging herself a hole while trying to get on his daughter’s good side. She almost cringed at the realization of wanting to impress her. Let it go, she had to tell herself for the dozenth time - let go of the hope that she and Gael could be anything other than what they were - not unless she wanted to lose him. Falling in love always meant losing that very person.

Brown eyes watched the two banter and she had to keep her thoughts from straying too far, into a place they wouldn’t be able to return from. A smile found her lips and as much as she wanted and tried to ignore it, she couldn’t help but notice what a good father he was. She almost wished she had a cup of coffee or a glass of water, something, anything to keep her mind from wandering, but god, how good he was with her. She was grateful for the distraction when he told Nanda to go (Marianne’s effect on her daughter definitely not slipping past her); Adrina gave her a small nod at her thanks, then turned to Gael.

“She looks so much like you,” she replied, her arms coming to rest on the table, mimicking Gael’s. She let a silence fall between them, her eyes coming to rest against his arms before looking at him again; “before you had them, did you always want kids? You’re really good with her.”

-

Gael smiles politely at the remark he's heard one too many times, the small show of gratitude through a mere curve of his lips already instinct by now. He was too tired to read more into it, though the sense of pride he felt was always just lurking beneath the surface when it came to his daughters. "She does. Carla looks more like her mother, but..."  He gives Adrina a knowing look, all smugness. "She sounds like me." Which drove Marianne crazy, a fact both he and Carla were only too happy to press on. "She enjoys cooking too, you'd like her."

He doesn't mind the silence that grows between them. It never really felt awkward around her, just comfortable. In fact, he'd have gladly sat there in silence rather than going outside and doing the rounds with every member of his family and their parrot.