Corrival couldn't help it. He turned and stared. "You're sorry about his jaw?" he demanded incredulously.
"I would ask," Anton said over the sound of the engine, "since the two of you seem to know something I don't and Skulduggery just momentarily lost control of the car, but as I said, we have something to contend with. Billy-Ray Sanguine has stolen one of the Remnants from the Hotel and apparently plans to infest Professor Grouse with it. Ergo, we--Skulduggery, Fletcher Renn and I--are following a ... lead."
There was something about the way he said that word. 'Lead'. Something about it which sounded ... not doubtful. Not exactly questioning. Pointed, was the word Corrival wanted. As if the 'lead' was something Anton did not quite understand, or which Skulduggery hadn't explained (not really surprising, to be honest), and about which Anton was still curious.
Because Skulduggery was listening.
Because if Skulduggery had lost control of his Bentley, even for a microsecond, then he had heard Ghastly's apology.
Because Skulduggery could hear everything they said.
A trickle of iciness sloped down Corrival's back, enough to sober him just a little--to make him wish he was drunker than he was. Not that he still wasn't drunk, as evidenced by the way his mouth and brain were still disconnected.
"You need some R and R," Corrival grumbled. "Both of you. All of you. You and Skulduggery and the Bentley. And Renn, I suppose. Is he even of age? And I agree with Ghastly. You should tell us when your birthday is."
"Perhaps another time. Ring Erskine; I'm sure he would appreciate speaking with you. We've nearly arrived."
"Where?" Corrival asked despite himself.
"Serpine's castle," was Anton's simple reply, and then there was a click as he hung up. Corrival hung his head and groaned.
"And I am once again far too sober for this. Quick, Bespoke, pass me the bottle and then we can ring Erskine."
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"I would ask," Anton said over the sound of the engine, "since the two of you seem to know something I don't and Skulduggery just momentarily lost control of the car, but as I said, we have something to contend with. Billy-Ray Sanguine has stolen one of the Remnants from the Hotel and apparently plans to infest Professor Grouse with it. Ergo, we--Skulduggery, Fletcher Renn and I--are following a ... lead."
There was something about the way he said that word. 'Lead'. Something about it which sounded ... not doubtful. Not exactly questioning. Pointed, was the word Corrival wanted. As if the 'lead' was something Anton did not quite understand, or which Skulduggery hadn't explained (not really surprising, to be honest), and about which Anton was still curious.
Because Skulduggery was listening.
Because if Skulduggery had lost control of his Bentley, even for a microsecond, then he had heard Ghastly's apology.
Because Skulduggery could hear everything they said.
A trickle of iciness sloped down Corrival's back, enough to sober him just a little--to make him wish he was drunker than he was. Not that he still wasn't drunk, as evidenced by the way his mouth and brain were still disconnected.
"You need some R and R," Corrival grumbled. "Both of you. All of you. You and Skulduggery and the Bentley. And Renn, I suppose. Is he even of age? And I agree with Ghastly. You should tell us when your birthday is."
"Perhaps another time. Ring Erskine; I'm sure he would appreciate speaking with you. We've nearly arrived."
"Where?" Corrival asked despite himself.
"Serpine's castle," was Anton's simple reply, and then there was a click as he hung up. Corrival hung his head and groaned.
"And I am once again far too sober for this. Quick, Bespoke, pass me the bottle and then we can ring Erskine."