Wait. 'Clean up his mistakes'? Corrival's frown deepened and he opened his mouth, shut it again when Erskine continued, and then paled. Because one did not say Anton Shudder 'nearly' lost control of his Gist unless he'd been drinking--which had happened once--or he'd slipped in the restrictions set by his Geas--which had not happened ever.
He just barely managed to keep from asking if Erskine was okay. Of course he was--from that, at least. If any part of the Gist had gotten out, Erskine would be dead. There wasn't really any in-between between 'fine' and 'dead' in this case.
"I didn't realise he was that close," he said, and actually sounded shaken. Enough to explain, as best as he could. "I knew he wouldn't take it well, and figured he wouldn't want to see any of us who already knew." It wasn't that Anton was a killjoy, exactly, except that he frequently seemed to be. If he thought someone he trusted already knew something, he just wouldn't bother to say anything about it, because what was the point in rehashing old ground? Corrival had hoped that Erskine not knowing anything at all might encourage the man to talk.
He hadn't heard about the thing with Skulduggery's true name, either. He just wasn't sure which part should take up more of his attention. Gabe having Skulduggery's name just made sense, and explained why Skulduggery trusted the angel to such a degree. That was the logic talking. Emotionally? He was a bit more ambivalent about the idea.
None of that explained why Erskine was so dog tired right now, if he'd met the Archangel of healing.
Corrival pressed his hands to his face, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment or two before exhaling slowly. "This is why I shouldn't be Grand Mage."
It wasn't a whine so much as a plaintive statement. There were a lot of reasons why Corrival shouldn't be Grand Mage. A lot of reasons bound up in that mistake. When he lifted his hands away he took one look at Erskine and then quietly pushed himself upright. He went to the drinks cabinet Guild had kept and no one had yet touched, pouring a whiskey and setting the glass down on the desk in front of Erskine. And then he poured one for himself. It may not have been political, or even wise, but screw it. Corrival wasn't known for being either.
no subject
He just barely managed to keep from asking if Erskine was okay. Of course he was--from that, at least. If any part of the Gist had gotten out, Erskine would be dead. There wasn't really any in-between between 'fine' and 'dead' in this case.
"I didn't realise he was that close," he said, and actually sounded shaken. Enough to explain, as best as he could. "I knew he wouldn't take it well, and figured he wouldn't want to see any of us who already knew." It wasn't that Anton was a killjoy, exactly, except that he frequently seemed to be. If he thought someone he trusted already knew something, he just wouldn't bother to say anything about it, because what was the point in rehashing old ground? Corrival had hoped that Erskine not knowing anything at all might encourage the man to talk.
He hadn't heard about the thing with Skulduggery's true name, either. He just wasn't sure which part should take up more of his attention. Gabe having Skulduggery's name just made sense, and explained why Skulduggery trusted the angel to such a degree. That was the logic talking. Emotionally? He was a bit more ambivalent about the idea.
None of that explained why Erskine was so dog tired right now, if he'd met the Archangel of healing.
Corrival pressed his hands to his face, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment or two before exhaling slowly. "This is why I shouldn't be Grand Mage."
It wasn't a whine so much as a plaintive statement. There were a lot of reasons why Corrival shouldn't be Grand Mage. A lot of reasons bound up in that mistake. When he lifted his hands away he took one look at Erskine and then quietly pushed himself upright. He went to the drinks cabinet Guild had kept and no one had yet touched, pouring a whiskey and setting the glass down on the desk in front of Erskine. And then he poured one for himself. It may not have been political, or even wise, but screw it. Corrival wasn't known for being either.