The rest of Skulduggery's mind finally caught up with the sensible part, which was grinning a smug little grin, and Skulduggery could have kicked himself. If he were still in skeleton form, he might well have. Angels wouldn't need to breathe, any more than he did. It was entirely possible Skulduggery's own focused breathing stopped when he was meditating.

What was it about dealing with Archangels that made everything feel so much more complicated? Aside from the obvious, of course.

Ah. And the panic, Skulduggery belatedly realised, would have done absolutely nothing to help a migraine, magical or not. He let his mind deflate with a healthy serving of chagrin - stopping just before embarrassment because, really, Skulduggery was better than that.

"Nothing," he answered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you. You're doing an excellent job."