Gaeta's too worn down to pull his arm away, but immediate tension rushes through him when he feels Anders' touch.

(you want to know who's in charge?)

He splays his fingers over his eyes, trying to block out the light. "There's nothing to figure out," he says, exhaustion overlapping the diminishing anger. "You're from three godsdamn weeks after the attacks. I'm not."

Gods, this is what Gaius must have felt like when Gaeta ran into him here, so very long ago.