Holy water. Yes. That ... would probably be useful. "I didn't think of that," Gabe murmured, too weary to even be abashed, and looked carefully around for the first time. "Anglican churches don't always carry holy water the way Catholic ones do. I ought to have chosen another cathedral."

It was just that this was one of his favourites, and so one of the first places to come to mind where he might be safe. In his world, it was guarded by angels, the priest a holy man; here it was quiet, empty, akin to somewhere recently dead. If Gabriel had been human again, he would have had chills down his spine. As it was, the amusement faded from his eyes as he looked around and saw a place physically the same as the one he knew and yet so different in the ways that mattered.

He was glad for Skul's distraction, intended or not, and turned his attention to his friend.

"Fugitives from whom?" he asked playfully. "I'm not sure Landel counts anymore." There was only one being who had authority from which Gabe could run, not that he ever would. The idea of being a fugitive, for him, went past a 'problem' and into 'laughable'. "That man who spotted us just before we left the office? Was it his?"

Skulduggery's thanks only gained a soft, warm smile, devoid of any regret or hesitation even despite the Archangel's current condition. He would not think of the Fallen. Could not, until he could figure out how to broach the subject, and this wasn't the time. "You're welcome, Skul."