"The price of crockery in China," Gabriel retorted without missing a beat, aware of the ridiculousness of Sanguine's thoughts but not, precisely, what they were except that they filled him with amused curiosity and anticipation.

Frankly, the Archangel didn't really want to know.

"Oh, a few hours," said the Remnant carelessly--Gabe refused to think of it as Kenspeckle. It wasn't him. Even if their souls were tuned, it would never truly be Kenspeckle. "And then I get his ... friend, correct?"

It was practically quivering with anticipation, and Gabe felt his lip curl with disgust, even through an odd sort of relief. It knew what he was. He knew it knew. And it couldn't wait, because it genuinely, actually thought it had the power to take him over. It didn't understand anything at all; like every one of Lucifer's own, pride would be its downfall. "More the fool it," he muttered, and then glanced at Sanguine again. "Sorry, Billy-Ray, somethin' you were after, or are you just gonna stand there and stare? Realise I'm eye-catchin', but there's gotta be limits somewhere."

It said something about Skulduggery's influence on him that he was beginning to default to these sorts of things as a cover.