Balthazar's grip on his brother tightens subtly. This is a promise they would never be permitted to make, as angels in good standing. Obedient angels commit to the Divine Will, or at worst the good of the Host, not to another individual. Maybe Balthazar's more broken and willful than he thought, because the promise Gadreel has just made him sounds like everything he ever wanted, without knowing it.

Which is why he can reciprocate easily, wordlessly committing himself to a brother he barely knew up until a few short months ago. Fingers locking in Gadreel's vessel's clothing, he curls close enough that barely a breath could pass between them, and nods.

It's enough. And he'll be silent for a while, letting himself recover from the fall and hoping Gadreel can do the same.

Night falls, and there are distant sounds of marauding creatures, either low-level demons or humans far gone to the Croatoan virus. Nothing comes to their hiding place, though, and by the time dawn comes, with a light rain, Balthazar is feeling a bit more together. He sits up without letting go of Gadreel's jacket, weighing options.

He should go look around, see what they can turn up that's useful. But that would mean moving away from the warmth and comfort of bodily contact.