It always amazed Skulduggery whenever Gabe could think in convoluted manipulations like this. It shouldn't have; he was an Archangel. Technically a general, and at least a million years old. But he acted so naive a lot of the time, so openly honest and accepting and cheerful, that Skulduggery had a difficult time seeing him as any sort of detective, seeing through peoples' lies and motives. And in a lot of ways, Gabe wasn't; the number of times Skulduggery had to teach him something... however, as useless at proper interrogation as Gabe had turned out to be, he could still reason like a detective. All the many hundreds of centuries without proper free will hadn't dimmed his propensity for individual thinking, apparently.
The card trick, though. That was just showing off. Skulduggery remained stubbornly unimpressed as Fletcher's eyes grew wide with admiration.
Can be talked into talking about it... There were likely plenty of such criminals, but the phrasing gave Skulduggery an idea. He did know someone who had once been the go-to man for information, before his life had been suddenly and irreparably destroyed. Most people didn't give him a second thought anymore, but if the man was still as good as he once was... it was possible he'd heard something China herself hadn't. "Possibly," Skulduggery murmured thoughtfully, instinctively reaching for his phone before he realised he wouldn't have the number. "Fletcher, have you ever heard of a man called Myron Stray?"
The teenager frowned. "No. Why?"
"He might know something." Skulduggery glanced towards Gabe. "Myron used to be almost as good as China, before a colleague of mine discovered his true name. He keeps a low profile now, but he still occasionally hears things. If anyone would know at least where to start looking, it would be him."
~~
Was the man, Ghastly couldn't help wondering, a sorcerer? He didn't know many other people who spoke like that, or so heavily implied that they were older than they seemed. If the man was about the same age as Kenspeckle Grouse, that would make him just over 700 years old. Definitely old enough to have been 'everywhere and nowhere,' as he so eloquently put it. The trouble was, the older a sorcerer got, the more tired and cynical they became. This man was the exact opposite, in every way. He laughed far too easily, grinned far too openly, still had so much zeal for life. Too much zeal. He couldn't seriously be getting excited over a dingy bar, could he?
The man was definitely interesting, Ghastly decided simply as the alcohol kicked in and a small haze began to settle. He'd only taken three drinks so far, and already he was feeling the effects. Strange. Maybe that first one had been stronger than he thought.
"Whatever floats your boat." Ghastly tipped his empty glass over with a finger and watched it roll gently to a stop. It occurred to him that if he was going to get drop-dead drunk today, he might as well get all the important facts while he could still think straight. "What do I call you?"
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The card trick, though. That was just showing off. Skulduggery remained stubbornly unimpressed as Fletcher's eyes grew wide with admiration.
Can be talked into talking about it... There were likely plenty of such criminals, but the phrasing gave Skulduggery an idea. He did know someone who had once been the go-to man for information, before his life had been suddenly and irreparably destroyed. Most people didn't give him a second thought anymore, but if the man was still as good as he once was... it was possible he'd heard something China herself hadn't. "Possibly," Skulduggery murmured thoughtfully, instinctively reaching for his phone before he realised he wouldn't have the number. "Fletcher, have you ever heard of a man called Myron Stray?"
The teenager frowned. "No. Why?"
"He might know something." Skulduggery glanced towards Gabe. "Myron used to be almost as good as China, before a colleague of mine discovered his true name. He keeps a low profile now, but he still occasionally hears things. If anyone would know at least where to start looking, it would be him."
~~
Was the man, Ghastly couldn't help wondering, a sorcerer? He didn't know many other people who spoke like that, or so heavily implied that they were older than they seemed. If the man was about the same age as Kenspeckle Grouse, that would make him just over 700 years old. Definitely old enough to have been 'everywhere and nowhere,' as he so eloquently put it. The trouble was, the older a sorcerer got, the more tired and cynical they became. This man was the exact opposite, in every way. He laughed far too easily, grinned far too openly, still had so much zeal for life. Too much zeal. He couldn't seriously be getting excited over a dingy bar, could he?
The man was definitely interesting, Ghastly decided simply as the alcohol kicked in and a small haze began to settle. He'd only taken three drinks so far, and already he was feeling the effects. Strange. Maybe that first one had been stronger than he thought.
"Whatever floats your boat." Ghastly tipped his empty glass over with a finger and watched it roll gently to a stop. It occurred to him that if he was going to get drop-dead drunk today, he might as well get all the important facts while he could still think straight. "What do I call you?"