Caleb smiles; he's cold and kind of mortified, but the smile is genuine. Gabe doesn't usually initiate touch, and his hand is warm.

"I know you wouldn't," he says, even if he has no idea how or why Gabe could have done something like that at all. Magic, he supposes, like Gabe told him at the beach. "I trust you. No harm, no foul, okay?"