"There's one on the wardrobe," Gabriel said. Inhale. Exhale. Panic wouldn't help, wasn't something he wanted to experience, and it could just damn well go away. He braced himself on the wall, took another breath, and pushed himself up awkwardly, half using Malcolm as a leaning-post.

"Help me over." He could have just described it, but he didn't want to. It was one thing having Re-l poking around. Entirely another to have a guy he'd gotten drunk at once doing the same.

That and he needed to do something. Needed to--to move, to make sure the caravan was still as intact as it sounded it was from Malcolm's words. The wardrobe was at the front, back against the same wall the raised driver's seat shared; there was a panel in the door which flipped down to bridge it and the counter, creating a desk.