Skulduggery looked from Gabe, whose composure was well and truly lost, to Fletcher, who was still holding the wig and giving Skulduggery an exaggerated shrug. "He has a point, you know."
Skulduggery debated a whole variety of responses - arguing, moving on without a word, setting fire to the wig. In the end, he decided on a very simple, but very firm: "No."
Fletcher hesitated, but then, to his credit, he put the wig back on the hook where he'd found it. Skulduggery was immediately sure it wouldn't stay there for long. Either Fletcher would find a way to Teleport back and grab it, simply because Gabe asked him to, or Gabriel - being an Archangel and all - would get it for himself. That, or put in a request to God.
... A request to God. Skulduggery shook his head impatiently. He would never be able to look at coincidences quite the same way anymore. Not that he'd ever taken coincidences for granted before this, but he'd never assumed an omnipotent bearded man was behind them.
"Do you even need a wig?" Fletcher asked suddenly. "Why can't you just do the hat and scarf? Pretend you're, I dunno. A bald albino or something."
At this point, Skulduggery would take it. Just a scarf, gloves, and sunglasses then. He pulled on the black pair of gloves he'd just found, and then snatched a large pair of dark sunglasses off a display case sitting on the counter. "Fletcher, how much money do you have on you?"
"What?" The teenager was caught off-guard. Come to think of it, Fletcher probably wasn't used to paying for much. "Um... about thirty euros? Why"
"Leave it all on the counter. I'll pay you back later. Gabe, if you're quite finished...?"
~~
A carnival? Ghastly had seen the posters for it around, but it was mainly geared towards kids and their families. He hadn't even considered going himself; now that the option was suddenly in front of him, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Gabe had mentioned that he enjoyed going to theme parks. There had to be a reason for that. Relaxing? Distracting? Playing against God at bumper cars and the arcade games, gambling over piles of teddy bears to eventually donate -
- teddy bears.
Teddy bears.
Teddy...
There wasn't so much a click as there was a sudden pulse, like a supernova going off just underneath Ghastly's mind. It froze him, completely, utterly, iced the blood in his veins and the alcohol in his brain, rocked the entire Earth underneath Ghastly's feet.
A broken record stuttered painfully through his mind. ... one of my boys always used to go with me... I'm everybody's Dad... I got too many names... there's magic in this place... who said I was alone?... The spot-on advice, the perfect understanding, the look in his eyes -
Good God. Or, no. Good... holy....
... hell.
Ghastly wasn't aware of how it happened, or when, but suddenly he was stumbling into the gutter under his own power. Tripped over the empty air? Reeling? Purposely pushing himself away? Could have been any of those, and all of them. Whatever the reason, Ghastly managed to spin tightly around as he fell to stare, half expecting the man to be gone.
He wasn't. He was still standing there, laughing. A full, deep, genuine laugh that somehow managed not to be mocking in the least. A regular old man, grizzled, ordinarily old... codger. For lack of a better word. For lack of a word that wouldn't make Ghastly pass out.
The first noise that came out of his mouth was somewhere between a strangled gasp and a cry. Ghastly swallowed hard and tried again. Nope. Same effect. In a desperate attempt not to look like a complete fool, Ghastly tried to imitate the noise he'd heard himself make instead, and thankfully - thankfully - it came out as real words.
"Where's all the alcohol go?"
... Okay, not the best words. Or the best voice; it was still a little strained, still a little high. But Ghastly was also still staring. He'd just been faced with God, for God's sake, he could be excused a little incoherence. In fact, Ghastly didn't think he should be held accountable for his actions whatsoever in the next few hours. Or the next few days. The next few years.
... And damn it, he'd been calling him Dad. Calling God... Calling Him Dad. Calling...
... maybe it would be for the best if Ghastly just stopped working.
no subject
Skulduggery debated a whole variety of responses - arguing, moving on without a word, setting fire to the wig. In the end, he decided on a very simple, but very firm: "No."
Fletcher hesitated, but then, to his credit, he put the wig back on the hook where he'd found it. Skulduggery was immediately sure it wouldn't stay there for long. Either Fletcher would find a way to Teleport back and grab it, simply because Gabe asked him to, or Gabriel - being an Archangel and all - would get it for himself. That, or put in a request to God.
... A request to God. Skulduggery shook his head impatiently. He would never be able to look at coincidences quite the same way anymore. Not that he'd ever taken coincidences for granted before this, but he'd never assumed an omnipotent bearded man was behind them.
"Do you even need a wig?" Fletcher asked suddenly. "Why can't you just do the hat and scarf? Pretend you're, I dunno. A bald albino or something."
At this point, Skulduggery would take it. Just a scarf, gloves, and sunglasses then. He pulled on the black pair of gloves he'd just found, and then snatched a large pair of dark sunglasses off a display case sitting on the counter. "Fletcher, how much money do you have on you?"
"What?" The teenager was caught off-guard. Come to think of it, Fletcher probably wasn't used to paying for much. "Um... about thirty euros? Why"
"Leave it all on the counter. I'll pay you back later. Gabe, if you're quite finished...?"
~~
A carnival? Ghastly had seen the posters for it around, but it was mainly geared towards kids and their families. He hadn't even considered going himself; now that the option was suddenly in front of him, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Gabe had mentioned that he enjoyed going to theme parks. There had to be a reason for that. Relaxing? Distracting? Playing against God at bumper cars and the arcade games, gambling over piles of teddy bears to eventually donate -
- teddy bears.
Teddy bears.
Teddy...
There wasn't so much a click as there was a sudden pulse, like a supernova going off just underneath Ghastly's mind. It froze him, completely, utterly, iced the blood in his veins and the alcohol in his brain, rocked the entire Earth underneath Ghastly's feet.
A broken record stuttered painfully through his mind. ... one of my boys always used to go with me... I'm everybody's Dad... I got too many names... there's magic in this place... who said I was alone?... The spot-on advice, the perfect understanding, the look in his eyes -
Good God. Or, no. Good... holy....
... hell.
Ghastly wasn't aware of how it happened, or when, but suddenly he was stumbling into the gutter under his own power. Tripped over the empty air? Reeling? Purposely pushing himself away? Could have been any of those, and all of them. Whatever the reason, Ghastly managed to spin tightly around as he fell to stare, half expecting the man to be gone.
He wasn't. He was still standing there, laughing. A full, deep, genuine laugh that somehow managed not to be mocking in the least. A regular old man, grizzled, ordinarily old... codger. For lack of a better word. For lack of a word that wouldn't make Ghastly pass out.
The first noise that came out of his mouth was somewhere between a strangled gasp and a cry. Ghastly swallowed hard and tried again. Nope. Same effect. In a desperate attempt not to look like a complete fool, Ghastly tried to imitate the noise he'd heard himself make instead, and thankfully - thankfully - it came out as real words.
"Where's all the alcohol go?"
... Okay, not the best words. Or the best voice; it was still a little strained, still a little high. But Ghastly was also still staring. He'd just been faced with God, for God's sake, he could be excused a little incoherence. In fact, Ghastly didn't think he should be held accountable for his actions whatsoever in the next few hours. Or the next few days. The next few years.
... And damn it, he'd been calling him Dad. Calling God... Calling Him Dad. Calling...
... maybe it would be for the best if Ghastly just stopped working.
So he did.