"I agree." Fletcher leaned forward with a smile. "I spy something beginning with 's.'"

"No you don't," Skulduggery cut in.

"I don't?"

"Not if it's what I think it is."

Fletcher frowned, staring at the skeleton detective. "What do you mean? It's just a thing. A word. There's nothing wrong with - " Oh, skeleton. Fletcher couldn't help it; he laughed. Did Skulduggery really think he was that stupid, or was the skeleton detective just teasing? "No. It's outside the cab."

"Ah. In that case, I apologise. Sun."

"Nope."

~~

Too simple? Ghastly wanted to say. God could speak for Himself! It felt a little like Ghastly's whole life had been leading up to this point, and he was failing the practical exam with spectacular efficiency.

"Oh, why not?" It would be stupid to say Ghastly didn't have anything to lose, but he had well and truly stopped caring. Since he was already standing at the launching point, he hefted his next ball and threw it before he could second-guess the decision.

It landed perfectly in a bowl with a plastic fish. So did the next one. The guy manning the booth handed Ghastly a new ball each time he needed one without question, and it wasn't until the tailor suddenly realised he'd landed every single one thus far that he faltered.

Protocol. What was the protocol here? He shouldn't be winning. He was playing against God.

Without taking the time to think, Ghastly purposefully missed the next two, and dunked the last one in a fishless bowl.