Skulduggery actually paused in his lockpicking to look around at them, slowly and with his head tilted in a way that suggested barely restrained offended mirth. The suggestion was entirely accurate. "I thought the whole point of a disguise was to avoid drawing attention. I hope you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."
Gabe's next words and Fletcher's excited grin told Skulduggery otherwise, much to his chagrin. "I'm not really the best photographer," said Fletcher with a shake of his head, "but I can get us cameras! Actually, forget that. I can get us video cameras. And a giant projector screen."
"I expect too much," Skulduggery sighed. "Unrealistic expectations, that's always been my problem. Gabe, you're an invalid until further notice."
"But he's an angel," Fletcher argued, clearly trying his best to stop laughing - and failing miserably. "Aren't they sort of hard to boss around? And shouldn't you be trying to - "
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the lock on the door clicked, and the door gently swung open. It was the mark of a good footpad, Skulduggery always said, that they were able to pick locks without paying full attention to the task. Of course, it helped when you were an Elemental and could manipulate the air around each tumbler. It also helped when the particular lock you were picking was a simple cylinder deadbolt, but the look of stunned surprise and admiration on the young sorcerer's face made Skulduggery feel like he'd just broken into Buckingham Palace.
"I may have just triggered an alarm," he warned them. "To be safe, we have five minutes."
Skulduggery would believe in the existence of God once and for all if a silly powdered and curled wig actually lurked within the depths of the shop somewhere. A vindictive God with a twisted sense of humour, but God nonetheless. Someone on Gabe's side, at any rate.
~~
Ghastly found the whole exchange funny in a way that only those teetering on the edge of a drunken stupor could. "If we're waiting 'til I'm ready, we'll be waiting a while," he said - or at least tried to say. The words probably came out a little more slurred than he intended - or completely different altogether. It was hard to tell.
But here, Ghastly belatedly realised, was an interesting thought. Dad drank at least as much as Ghastly did. Probably more. And yet he swung off his stool as gracefully as ever, eyes as bright and twinkling as they'd been the whole time, voice still perfectly even and full of sparkling amusement. And he made a convenient support for Ghastly, who was suddenly having a strange time standing up straight.
"How come you're not falling over?" he asked as they made their slow way outside the bar, with Ghastly leaning heavily on Dad's arm. God, was his head swimming. His head was a veritable fish. Ghastly's limbs felt weightless, but stuck, like they were attached to something heavy and nailed down to the ground. It was a good feeling.
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Gabe's next words and Fletcher's excited grin told Skulduggery otherwise, much to his chagrin. "I'm not really the best photographer," said Fletcher with a shake of his head, "but I can get us cameras! Actually, forget that. I can get us video cameras. And a giant projector screen."
"I expect too much," Skulduggery sighed. "Unrealistic expectations, that's always been my problem. Gabe, you're an invalid until further notice."
"But he's an angel," Fletcher argued, clearly trying his best to stop laughing - and failing miserably. "Aren't they sort of hard to boss around? And shouldn't you be trying to - "
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the lock on the door clicked, and the door gently swung open. It was the mark of a good footpad, Skulduggery always said, that they were able to pick locks without paying full attention to the task. Of course, it helped when you were an Elemental and could manipulate the air around each tumbler. It also helped when the particular lock you were picking was a simple cylinder deadbolt, but the look of stunned surprise and admiration on the young sorcerer's face made Skulduggery feel like he'd just broken into Buckingham Palace.
"I may have just triggered an alarm," he warned them. "To be safe, we have five minutes."
Skulduggery would believe in the existence of God once and for all if a silly powdered and curled wig actually lurked within the depths of the shop somewhere. A vindictive God with a twisted sense of humour, but God nonetheless. Someone on Gabe's side, at any rate.
~~
Ghastly found the whole exchange funny in a way that only those teetering on the edge of a drunken stupor could. "If we're waiting 'til I'm ready, we'll be waiting a while," he said - or at least tried to say. The words probably came out a little more slurred than he intended - or completely different altogether. It was hard to tell.
But here, Ghastly belatedly realised, was an interesting thought. Dad drank at least as much as Ghastly did. Probably more. And yet he swung off his stool as gracefully as ever, eyes as bright and twinkling as they'd been the whole time, voice still perfectly even and full of sparkling amusement. And he made a convenient support for Ghastly, who was suddenly having a strange time standing up straight.
"How come you're not falling over?" he asked as they made their slow way outside the bar, with Ghastly leaning heavily on Dad's arm. God, was his head swimming. His head was a veritable fish. Ghastly's limbs felt weightless, but stuck, like they were attached to something heavy and nailed down to the ground. It was a good feeling.