Micah tried to catch Paul’s eye as he hurriedly scooped up the tray – to offer him a sympathetic smile, at least – but the kid steadfastly refused to meet his eyes. Micah could only watch as he cleaned up the coffee table and disposed of the food before… locking himself in the bathroom?

Honestly, Micah didn’t blame him. He might have pissed himself in Paul’s shoes.

He took a deep breath before turning to Damon. “Was that really necessary?”

Micah had the pleasure of the man turning his glare on him. “He almost poisoned you.”

Micah’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s an extreme interpretation of events. It was an innocent mistake. You didn’t need to-”

“He got off easy,” Damon interrupted, voice little more than a snarl. “If you’d have eaten anything on that tray, no amount of his stammered apologies or your misplaced mercy would have been enough to bring him back.”

Micah frowned, prepared to argue, but suddenly realized just how tense Damon actually was. The man’s hands were gripping his knees so tightly that his knuckles were white… almost like he was trying to stop them from shaking.

It was only then Micah realized that Damon hadn’t just been angry… he was scared. And whether it should have affected Micah or not, he felt himself immediately soften.

“Hey,” he said, taking Damon’s hands and prying them off his knees. Half-surprised the man allowed it, Micah brought one of Damon’s hands up to his face, placing it against his cheek. “No facial swelling.” He put the man’s other hand on his chest and took a pointed breath. “My breathing’s fine. You don’t have to worry. I’m safe, okay?”

The man swallowed hard enough that Micah saw his Adam’s apple bob, but he didn’t say anything and seemed in no hurry to escape Micah’s touch, so Micah took a chance and rested his head on Damon shoulder – consciously this time. “So,” he asked, gesturing at the tv, “does this thing have Netflix?”

The tension in Damon’s body slowly ebbed as they watched a random rerun of Love It or List It on HGTV, and thankfully, the remaining hours of their flight were uneventful. They arrived at their destination around noon.

“Welcome to Siena,” Damon said as he helped Micah off the plane at what appeared to be a private airport.

“So we are in Italy,” Micah said, unable to resist the urge to glance around. The runway of the airport they’d landed at appeared modern, but small – and Micah could see towering mountains covered in snow-capped trees in the distance.

Damon frowned. “Didn’t I tell you where we were going?”

Micah shrugged. “Not specifically. You just asked about my passport, so I assumed we were headed somewhere out of country, and I know you’re from Italy so…”