The minor discomfort Skul was feeling made Gabriel feel guilty himself, because he couldn't help but be grateful and relieved that Kenspeckle had chosen to focus on him until they were done. Until his pain had started to subside, the Archangel hadn't realised just how used to it he was getting. Or how much of a relief it would be when it went away.
Part of him felt he should have paid more attention to the passing of time. Another part, utterly selfish. The rest ... the rest was just revelling in the fact that if he remained still as only angels could, and frequently did, it was as though he'd never been injured at all.
Which was precisely what he did when Kenspeckle finally set down the bowl and stripped off his gloves. "Right," he said briskly, "now we're done with the reckless and irresponsible angel, it's your turn, Pleasant. Sit."
He pointed at the other table again, the one just opposite Gabriel, and Gabe turned his head a little to look at the detective. The Archangel was being very, very still, but not in a way that made him seem a statue; rather, it was more as if he was part of the slow, quiet rhythm of the surroundings themselves. Even though it was a closed room, there was still sound and ventilation, and the soft breeze stirred his hair and clothes gently. His light merged with the physical light overhead and the rainbows had settled, and between the two it made his presence seem entirely natural.
The gaze he turned on Skulduggery was entirely relaxed. Not inquisitive, precisely, but calm and watchful and enjoying the moment. Gabe's face was completely free of pain or even worry for the first time since before he'd even rescued Skul from the Faceless Ones. Since before things at Landel's had started to heat up between the patients and the doctor.
Grumbling and muttering to himself about idiot skeletons who forgot their bones could still break, Kenspeckle removed Skulduggery's brace and announcing him healed. "Although it wasn't exactly difficult," he added, "but don't take giving me an Archangel to heal as permission to up the stakes, Pleasant. I probably won't heal you next time."
"How do you feel?" Gabriel asked with a smile.
~~~
The man at the counter, in fact, was probably the oldest person in the bar--older even than the bartender himself. For all that, he also looked the fittest. He was tanned and with weathered skin exactly the sort borne by people who had spent their lives active in the sun; his hair was that scaling shade of grey and black which implied a graciousness in his ageing. His grey eyes, contrast to the darkness of the bar, were bright and twinkling, and the lines creasing his face indicated a propensity to smile.
He watched Ghastly openly, and only when the tailor had downed one drink and gotten really settled in his seat did the old man speak, gruffly and in a vaguely American accent. "Out to drown your sorrows, lad?"
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Part of him felt he should have paid more attention to the passing of time. Another part, utterly selfish. The rest ... the rest was just revelling in the fact that if he remained still as only angels could, and frequently did, it was as though he'd never been injured at all.
Which was precisely what he did when Kenspeckle finally set down the bowl and stripped off his gloves. "Right," he said briskly, "now we're done with the reckless and irresponsible angel, it's your turn, Pleasant. Sit."
He pointed at the other table again, the one just opposite Gabriel, and Gabe turned his head a little to look at the detective. The Archangel was being very, very still, but not in a way that made him seem a statue; rather, it was more as if he was part of the slow, quiet rhythm of the surroundings themselves. Even though it was a closed room, there was still sound and ventilation, and the soft breeze stirred his hair and clothes gently. His light merged with the physical light overhead and the rainbows had settled, and between the two it made his presence seem entirely natural.
The gaze he turned on Skulduggery was entirely relaxed. Not inquisitive, precisely, but calm and watchful and enjoying the moment. Gabe's face was completely free of pain or even worry for the first time since before he'd even rescued Skul from the Faceless Ones. Since before things at Landel's had started to heat up between the patients and the doctor.
Grumbling and muttering to himself about idiot skeletons who forgot their bones could still break, Kenspeckle removed Skulduggery's brace and announcing him healed. "Although it wasn't exactly difficult," he added, "but don't take giving me an Archangel to heal as permission to up the stakes, Pleasant. I probably won't heal you next time."
"How do you feel?" Gabriel asked with a smile.
~~~
The man at the counter, in fact, was probably the oldest person in the bar--older even than the bartender himself. For all that, he also looked the fittest. He was tanned and with weathered skin exactly the sort borne by people who had spent their lives active in the sun; his hair was that scaling shade of grey and black which implied a graciousness in his ageing. His grey eyes, contrast to the darkness of the bar, were bright and twinkling, and the lines creasing his face indicated a propensity to smile.
He watched Ghastly openly, and only when the tailor had downed one drink and gotten really settled in his seat did the old man speak, gruffly and in a vaguely American accent. "Out to drown your sorrows, lad?"