Anton didn't turn as Fletcher helped Gabe out of the room, but that didn't mean the sorcerer didn't see in the reflections. The room was so clean, it wasn't hard to use reflections as a tool. He stayed where he was, far opposite the door, until the simmer of the Gist settled into stillness.
He still wasn't sure he believed Skulduggery's assertion. There were a number of different possibilities. And yet none of them changed the fact that Gabe, whatever or whoever or however the magic from his dimension worked, could see Anton's Gist. Which meant he could see Anton's soul. And there had been something in it which he found repulsive.
Anton made it a point to not be unnerved by much. He wasn't sure which part unnerved him more: the fact that he, his Gist, and possibly his Geas, were all an open book to this man, or the fact that this man might be an Archangel.
Either way, with that kind of magic it wasn't any wonder why Skulduggery was able to use him as a lead.
Anton sat on the edge of an armchair by Kenspeckle's sofa and watched the man breathe, a crinkle in his brow. His thoughts were going around in circles and he knew it. He also knew why Renn had left so quickly. The boy was young, wanted to avoid responsibilities and consequences. He shouldn't have taken up with Skulduggery, in that case.
The sorcerer rose again, resisted the urge to pace. He was restless. It wasn't often he got like this, but he was now, and without quite meaning to he found himself moving into the hallway. It wasn't his standard policy. He didn't bother his guests.
Gabe wasn't his guest, and this wasn't his Hotel.
Without stopping to think Anton laid his hand on the knob and turned it to step into the bedroom. For a moment he was framed in the doorway, but with an unhurried swiftness he closed it behind him. There were dim lights set into the ceiling; they were enough for him to see Gabe roll over on the bed and open his eyes to watch Anton without saying anything.
He looked vulnerable. One hand was tucked under the pillow, the other laid on the mattress, his legs tucked up under him. The curls framed his face in a way that made him look almost child-like.
He wasn't breathing.
He wasn't breathing, and yet he watched Anton.
Wordlessly Anton looked back. There was no clock in the room, but he could feel the seconds ticking by.
Finally he moved, without breaking gaze, to take a seat in the chair in the far corner, behind the door. There he settled, crossing his legs and arms, and watching. He'd locked the door from the other side. There was no getting out for either of them, now. If there was a Remnant in Gabe, it would go nowhere but Anton. And if Gabe was something else ... hallucination, soul-reader, mind-controller ... Anton would discover that too.
In time, Gabe closed his eyes again. Anton said nothing, did nothing, and simply watched.
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He still wasn't sure he believed Skulduggery's assertion. There were a number of different possibilities. And yet none of them changed the fact that Gabe, whatever or whoever or however the magic from his dimension worked, could see Anton's Gist. Which meant he could see Anton's soul. And there had been something in it which he found repulsive.
Anton made it a point to not be unnerved by much. He wasn't sure which part unnerved him more: the fact that he, his Gist, and possibly his Geas, were all an open book to this man, or the fact that this man might be an Archangel.
Either way, with that kind of magic it wasn't any wonder why Skulduggery was able to use him as a lead.
Anton sat on the edge of an armchair by Kenspeckle's sofa and watched the man breathe, a crinkle in his brow. His thoughts were going around in circles and he knew it. He also knew why Renn had left so quickly. The boy was young, wanted to avoid responsibilities and consequences. He shouldn't have taken up with Skulduggery, in that case.
The sorcerer rose again, resisted the urge to pace. He was restless. It wasn't often he got like this, but he was now, and without quite meaning to he found himself moving into the hallway. It wasn't his standard policy. He didn't bother his guests.
Gabe wasn't his guest, and this wasn't his Hotel.
Without stopping to think Anton laid his hand on the knob and turned it to step into the bedroom. For a moment he was framed in the doorway, but with an unhurried swiftness he closed it behind him. There were dim lights set into the ceiling; they were enough for him to see Gabe roll over on the bed and open his eyes to watch Anton without saying anything.
He looked vulnerable. One hand was tucked under the pillow, the other laid on the mattress, his legs tucked up under him. The curls framed his face in a way that made him look almost child-like.
He wasn't breathing.
He wasn't breathing, and yet he watched Anton.
Wordlessly Anton looked back. There was no clock in the room, but he could feel the seconds ticking by.
Finally he moved, without breaking gaze, to take a seat in the chair in the far corner, behind the door. There he settled, crossing his legs and arms, and watching. He'd locked the door from the other side. There was no getting out for either of them, now. If there was a Remnant in Gabe, it would go nowhere but Anton. And if Gabe was something else ... hallucination, soul-reader, mind-controller ... Anton would discover that too.
In time, Gabe closed his eyes again. Anton said nothing, did nothing, and simply watched.