Gabriel blinked confusedly. He had known that the Saviour was going to be born, of course, but this time the Lord had chosen to keep most of it a secret. Even Gabriel had not known where the Son was, until now.

He doesn't know who He is, he realised.

"I'm not moulting, Lord," Gabriel replied, eyes searching the Son's face, streaked with grime and motor-oil. "You can stay at the Manor tonight if You wish, and wash up."