Gabe meant to keep Billy-Ray away from anything too revealing. He wasn't sure what he'd meant to happen, but when the Texan's soul turned again, and revealed awe, the Archangel had to swallow hard and remind himself that it was physically impossible for angels to throw up. He didn't want to be admired by a man like this. It was the last thing he wanted.
But the alternative wasn't any better. Worse, in a different way. Because Gabe had spent time ignoring what the Faceless Ones were. He had spent time studiously not thinking about the insanity the Cacophony had wrought in his own siblings.
Now Sanguine was making him think of it.
Use this, he told himself. Skul would tell you to use this as a cover.
If Skul knew that the Faceless Ones were fallen and insane angels.
After a tense moment Gabe answered, "It wasn' pretty." His voice was low, tight, rippling with undercurrents Sanguine would never be able to define but to which he would assume meaning. The way he spoke, though, was knowing. Experienced. It had to be. These were Gabe's siblings; even though he hadn't seen them in aeons, he knew them still. "They're insane. All of 'em. They're don't care about loyalty and reward. It's just about makin' things as bad for everyone else as it is for them."
That was the very definition of Hell: a place where no one was happy and no one could be happy. Ever. Sanguine would enjoy the thought of being in Hell. He would hate the reality.
They always did.
~~
"Ah," Solomon murmured. "Well, let's just hope he hasn't put shoes on, then." Only a madman, or someone unaffected by the weather, would go shoeless in a Dublin street at any given time.
The ex-Necromancer raised an eyebrow, which was about his only reaction to the fact that Saint Gabriel and Billy-Ray Sanguine were having a face-off. Part of him wished he could see it. Part of him was incredulous. And part of him now understood what Renn had meant by 'in the middle of something'.
Of course. Pleasant was still investigating the theft of the Desolation Engine. Naturally Saint Gabriel would be with him.
The area between Solomon's shoulder-blades prickled and unease rang in his mind. A theft ...
The tone in Father O'Reilly's voice made the sorcerer glance toward him. "I fear you'll need to stand up again before that's possible," he said wryly. "But I sympathise. I had the very same feeling just after ... I first met him." For various reasons he had no intention of talking about in Renn's presence.
But he did direct his next words to the Teleporter. "He's helping Pleasant with his investigation, I suppose?"
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But the alternative wasn't any better. Worse, in a different way. Because Gabe had spent time ignoring what the Faceless Ones were. He had spent time studiously not thinking about the insanity the Cacophony had wrought in his own siblings.
Now Sanguine was making him think of it.
Use this, he told himself. Skul would tell you to use this as a cover.
If Skul knew that the Faceless Ones were fallen and insane angels.
After a tense moment Gabe answered, "It wasn' pretty." His voice was low, tight, rippling with undercurrents Sanguine would never be able to define but to which he would assume meaning. The way he spoke, though, was knowing. Experienced. It had to be. These were Gabe's siblings; even though he hadn't seen them in aeons, he knew them still. "They're insane. All of 'em. They're don't care about loyalty and reward. It's just about makin' things as bad for everyone else as it is for them."
That was the very definition of Hell: a place where no one was happy and no one could be happy. Ever. Sanguine would enjoy the thought of being in Hell. He would hate the reality.
They always did.
~~
"Ah," Solomon murmured. "Well, let's just hope he hasn't put shoes on, then." Only a madman, or someone unaffected by the weather, would go shoeless in a Dublin street at any given time.
The ex-Necromancer raised an eyebrow, which was about his only reaction to the fact that Saint Gabriel and Billy-Ray Sanguine were having a face-off. Part of him wished he could see it. Part of him was incredulous. And part of him now understood what Renn had meant by 'in the middle of something'.
Of course. Pleasant was still investigating the theft of the Desolation Engine. Naturally Saint Gabriel would be with him.
The area between Solomon's shoulder-blades prickled and unease rang in his mind. A theft ...
The tone in Father O'Reilly's voice made the sorcerer glance toward him. "I fear you'll need to stand up again before that's possible," he said wryly. "But I sympathise. I had the very same feeling just after ... I first met him." For various reasons he had no intention of talking about in Renn's presence.
But he did direct his next words to the Teleporter. "He's helping Pleasant with his investigation, I suppose?"