Wordlessly Corrival picked up the whiskey bottle and put it down on the coffeetable beside Ghastly's armchair. He didn't take a seat himself. It wasn't exactly that he didn't dare, or that he didn't feel like he'd earned it, but more a combination of the two. Most generals he knew sank down into their chairs like their strings had been cut at bad news.
That wasn't Corrival. It wasn't that he thought he couldn't sit down until things were fixed, because then it would never happen. It was more that he shouldn't. That was the moment when a leader had to be strongest, not in terms of pretending strength for the sake of their subordinates but being strong for the sake of themselves, and the best way of being strong was to not give in to the lack of hope and therefore to not sit down. Besides which, the people under him usually pulled more than their fair share of weight, and if they were going to be delivering news like this it meant they'd gone through hell and they deserved the chair more.
Especially Ghastly, right now. Skulduggery's best friend. Lord Vile's best friend. Corrival was surprised the tailor hadn't done anything more than break the skeleton's jaw.
So Corrival left the bottle there so Ghastly could either refill his glass or drink straight from it, and then turned to move toward the bar. He didn't pick anything up or set anything down; he just needed a bit of space. Part of him still felt weak inside from the shock, but it was easing into numb disbelief and his orderly soldier mind was able to take proper stock.
Now he knew why Ghastly had been rambling. A bit of context. Put like that, entwined with this sort of news, the presence of an Archangel was more believable--or at least the news of a benevolent, greatly powerful being. Like the Faceless Ones, except not evil. At least, not apparently evil, but definitely with ulterior motives, if he was interested in keeping Skulduggery--Lord Vile!--alive and well. After turning it over in his head, Corrival found it was something he could stomach for the moment. The details of this other dimension and Gabriel's home dimension didn't matter at this juncture. Just that he existed, and was powerful enough to put a leash on Skulduggery.
A leash that wouldn't last, but they could deal with that in a moment. Of more importance was the immediate affects.
"Witnesses?" Corrival asked, his tone business-like. "You, Sorrows, Crux, Gabriel, presumably Valkyrie Cain. Who else saw and knows?"
And was likely to go off half-cocked before they could control the situation? How, exactly, they were going to control it Corrival didn't know, but without any kind of blinding realisation, without anything but resigned acceptance, he knew that he wasn't going to let this get out. Not to Guild. Not to the public. What he was going to do with it, he didn't know yet, but it had to be kept from getting out.
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That wasn't Corrival. It wasn't that he thought he couldn't sit down until things were fixed, because then it would never happen. It was more that he shouldn't. That was the moment when a leader had to be strongest, not in terms of pretending strength for the sake of their subordinates but being strong for the sake of themselves, and the best way of being strong was to not give in to the lack of hope and therefore to not sit down. Besides which, the people under him usually pulled more than their fair share of weight, and if they were going to be delivering news like this it meant they'd gone through hell and they deserved the chair more.
Especially Ghastly, right now. Skulduggery's best friend. Lord Vile's best friend. Corrival was surprised the tailor hadn't done anything more than break the skeleton's jaw.
So Corrival left the bottle there so Ghastly could either refill his glass or drink straight from it, and then turned to move toward the bar. He didn't pick anything up or set anything down; he just needed a bit of space. Part of him still felt weak inside from the shock, but it was easing into numb disbelief and his orderly soldier mind was able to take proper stock.
Now he knew why Ghastly had been rambling. A bit of context. Put like that, entwined with this sort of news, the presence of an Archangel was more believable--or at least the news of a benevolent, greatly powerful being. Like the Faceless Ones, except not evil. At least, not apparently evil, but definitely with ulterior motives, if he was interested in keeping Skulduggery--Lord Vile!--alive and well. After turning it over in his head, Corrival found it was something he could stomach for the moment. The details of this other dimension and Gabriel's home dimension didn't matter at this juncture. Just that he existed, and was powerful enough to put a leash on Skulduggery.
A leash that wouldn't last, but they could deal with that in a moment. Of more importance was the immediate affects.
"Witnesses?" Corrival asked, his tone business-like. "You, Sorrows, Crux, Gabriel, presumably Valkyrie Cain. Who else saw and knows?"
And was likely to go off half-cocked before they could control the situation? How, exactly, they were going to control it Corrival didn't know, but without any kind of blinding realisation, without anything but resigned acceptance, he knew that he wasn't going to let this get out. Not to Guild. Not to the public. What he was going to do with it, he didn't know yet, but it had to be kept from getting out.