Even asleep, he looks older, somehow, than he has previously, with a little more gray to his hair, a few more lines to his face.

Not to mention the neatly-stitched and bandaged wounds that run along the left side of his cheek and jaw and down his throat before disappearing under the neat line of the hospital gown.

There's a small clear tube -- a cannula -- providing him with oxygen. Even so, Gabriel's breathing is a little harsh, a little strained.

He stirs a little at the sound of her footsteps, mumbling something incoherent.