The touch of Skulduggery's hand on his feather made it twitch reflexively, the muscle flicking it into the detective's palm. There was such gentleness and regret and grief in the gesture that it almost put tears in Gabriel's eyes.

"I'm fine," Gabe assured him, running a comforting hand down his back. The Archangel wasn't going to want to move much soon enough, or at least would only be able to move even more slowly than he was capable now, but he would live. The pain was worth it, anyhow. Gabriel would never have forgiven himself if he'd been unable to rescue Skulduggery from this.

Gabe didn't move, though. Didn't pull away--not until Skulduggery was ready. He could sense behind him that the others were beginning to wake up, the stuns beginning to wear off, and he still didn't move. His wing shifted, just slightly, just enough to put his feathers closer if Skulduggery wanted to use them as a comfort--to rest against, to touch, whatever he needed.

He could have asked Skul if he was all right ... but Gabe already knew the answer to that. So he just waited, patient and broadcasting assurance, until Skul chose to pull back--or one of the others interrupted.