Skulduggery glanced up in surprise. It hadn't occurred to him that if anyone would understand, it would be an angel. He couldn't remember Gabe ever struggling with any of his choices at the Institute, but then again, 'recently' might mean something very different to an Archangel who'd presumably lived since the beginning of time.

The choice Skulduggery wanted to make was the one that didn't involve his true name whatsoever. But the reasons were purely selfish and emotional in nature, something Skulduggery had grown far too used to in his isolation. Comfort, years of war had taught him, shouldn't have any place in a decision where so much was at stake. The Isthmus Anchor was a certainty. And with Gabe's voice drained after apparently singing his way into this reality, the thread that Anchor provided was probably also safer.

It shouldn't be a difficult decision. A no-brainer, as the expression went, which Skulduggery found particularly amusing because most of his decisions were made without one.

The detective took a deep breath he didn't need, and straightened up. "My reality is probably falling apart without me," he decided. "Time isn't a luxury we have. Just... try not to break anything."