Well so much for being subtle, much less professional. It doesn't matter. Digby doesn't seem to mind, stuck as he is with one half-worked arm. He lets Gabe pull him into the hall, reaching out himself to shut the door behind them. Gabe's already kissing him before it's even latched; Johnny's back hits the wall and he wraps his arms around him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other pressing at one shoulder blade, the approximate point where the wing would sprout if they were tangible. It's sort of a subconscious gesture, he supposes, or like a little reminder for himself, because it helps to remember what Gabriel is.

He smiles against Gabe's mouth and fists his hand in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him as close as possible.

"Good offering, then?" he says a bit huskily, still close, peeking up at him.