"No," Gabriel said quietly. "Always. Being the last Teleporter is only a means to prove to others that he's worth something to them." He paused. "To you. To the others. I realise you haven't been here for a year, Skulduggery, but the others follow your lead. If you dismiss his aid as a Teleporter as nothing more than your due, so too will they."
The Archangel smiled gently at Skul. "He's a good kid. And he respects you a lot, you know. He's worried that now you're back, none of you will need him anymore. And yes, that's going to come out in inappropriate ways sometimes. But Fletcher doesn't have to help you. Us. He'll help because he wants to. It'd be good to keep that in mind while we're using him as a taxi, don't you think?"
~~~
Solomon accepted the mug with a nod that was more grateful than he might otherwise have revealed if he hadn't been so tired. His eyes were still faintly bloodshot from those ... rather unique tears. Fortunately, such a symptom could be mistaken for simple lack of sleep. The Necromancer sipped at the coffee, his eyes on China. He was familiar with her tactics, even if for no other reason than the fact that he himself was a manipulator. China Sorrows did not 'confess'. A ploy, then. She did knows something more than what she pretended--more than 'supposition'.
His heart pounded. Did she know enough? Did she know it all? Did he dare tell her if she didn't?
How could she not? The Temple had Sensitives of its own, and sometime in the night Solomon had remembered that fact. The Necromancers had dismissed the possibility of what everyone else had been saying. Obviously that had been foolish.
Calmly Solomon set down his mug and lifted an eyebrow. "Ms Sorrows, I'm either disappointed or impressed. I haven't quite decided which. Are you telling me you haven't yet made a connection between Skulduggery Pleasant's sudden return, his companion, and the visions every Sensitive in Ireland have been having?"
He tsked, shaking his head as if in disappointment.
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The Archangel smiled gently at Skul. "He's a good kid. And he respects you a lot, you know. He's worried that now you're back, none of you will need him anymore. And yes, that's going to come out in inappropriate ways sometimes. But Fletcher doesn't have to help you. Us. He'll help because he wants to. It'd be good to keep that in mind while we're using him as a taxi, don't you think?"
~~~
Solomon accepted the mug with a nod that was more grateful than he might otherwise have revealed if he hadn't been so tired. His eyes were still faintly bloodshot from those ... rather unique tears. Fortunately, such a symptom could be mistaken for simple lack of sleep. The Necromancer sipped at the coffee, his eyes on China. He was familiar with her tactics, even if for no other reason than the fact that he himself was a manipulator. China Sorrows did not 'confess'. A ploy, then. She did knows something more than what she pretended--more than 'supposition'.
His heart pounded. Did she know enough? Did she know it all? Did he dare tell her if she didn't?
How could she not? The Temple had Sensitives of its own, and sometime in the night Solomon had remembered that fact. The Necromancers had dismissed the possibility of what everyone else had been saying. Obviously that had been foolish.
Calmly Solomon set down his mug and lifted an eyebrow. "Ms Sorrows, I'm either disappointed or impressed. I haven't quite decided which. Are you telling me you haven't yet made a connection between Skulduggery Pleasant's sudden return, his companion, and the visions every Sensitive in Ireland have been having?"
He tsked, shaking his head as if in disappointment.