His suit was wet, and although the noonday sun beat down nice and strong, it was doing very little to dry it. Skulduggery held his equally dripping hat in his hand, taking a moment to mourn its loss, before wondering whether it was even possible to dry clean hats.
That was one of the more interesting nights Skulduggery ever had. In fact, it was second only to that time he managed to convince Valkyrie that if she danced on one leg in the middle of a field and chanted, she'd attract unicorns. Valkyrie was surprisingly gullible for someone so jaded. It never failed to bring him endless amounts of amusement, no matter how hard she sulked later. Or how hard she hit him.
This night, however, was interesting for a very different reason. It seemed like a perfectly logical idea, at the time, when Gabe suggested the two of them get started on tracking down Davina Marr right away because who knew what Raphael was going to say next. Skulduggery had wholeheartedly agreed. It wasn't until he stopped to think that he realised things would likely get very, very awkward.
Except... they did, and they didn't. It was strange. The investigation kept them focused enough that any potential awkwardness was dispelled before it even started, but it was definitely there. Persistent. Ever-present. A niggling thing in the back of Skulduggery's mind, even as he pieced new information together. They learned, for example, that Davina had not so much as a single friend in Ireland (not surprising at all), nor was any of her contact information at the Sanctuary still valid (even less surprising). She had no family back in Boston, nor anyone who might have any idea where she was, and as far as anyone knew she had no ties to anywhere else in the world.
And still, the awkwardness prevailed.
For a detective who worked for two important Sanctuaries, Davina Marr was like a leaf in the wind. It was possible she'd paid someone to remove any trace of her existence, or her future movements. And yet, Skulduggery was pretty sure she hadn't left Ireland. She couldn't, even if she'd had a reason to - which she didn't anymore, since her grand plan failed and the Sanctuary didn't blow up.
Now it was just a matter of finding her.
They'd done all they could for the moment. Skulduggery called in some old favours, created new debts to other contacts who immediately agreed to help out the instant they heard what Davina Marr had been planning to do, and eventually he was really just putting off the inevitable. Unless he started knocking on random apartment doors throughout Ireland searching for Marr - or, come to think of it, asking Gabe to do a scan, which was out of the question - he really needed to find a productive way to spend the rest of the night, of which there remained a good few hours.
So he drove. And somehow, they ended up on a beach.
And finally, they talked.
Skulduggery wasn't wrong back there, it turned out. That was definitely their souls, interacting the way they were. Not that Skulduggery had any reason to doubt it, what with having Gabriel's true name and all. But there was one really important question he needed to ask - was the new interaction permanent? Because while he didn't see burnished gold drifting in the air, or feel any of what Gabe was feeling, he could still feel something. A touch. Quite similar, actually, to what he had been feeling almost the entire time, and one of the reasons he'd nearly lost control of himself when Gabe disappeared - that touch, without Skulduggery's knowledge or permission, had inextricably wormed its way into who he was.
Gabe's answer essentially boiled down to the fact that he had no idea. This was new, even to him. Apparently, he hadn't even thought about the possibility of anything being permanent before.
Comforting, it was not.
That led to the all-important question of whether Gabe was still going to go back home. Or rather, making sure that he would. So when Gabe left Skulduggery with the impression that he was reconsidering even that, Skulduggery turned to face him in the surf they were walking through, and adamantly insisted that he was not going to be the cause of some dimension out there losing two of their Archangels. That inevitably led to a brief argument, during which Skulduggery wanted to know more about the Cacophany and what made the Faceless Ones become the Faceless Ones. He demanded to know why Gabe wasn't more worried about the same thing happening to him. Gabe's answer wasn't exactly satisfying, and for a moment Skulduggery just looked at him - looked at this angel who'd risked everything for him, standing with water up to his ankles looking perfectly innocent after the ordeal he'd put everyone through for half a day.
Skulduggery looked at him, grunted, and caught Gabe in the chest with a blast of salty air - like a shove, but with a bit more force behind it. Gabe had gone tumbling backwards right into an oncoming wave, come up soaking wet and spluttering, and Skulduggery couldn't help it - he laughed.
It was certainly one of the more interesting nights he was never going to tell anyone about. But this one was satisfying for the sole reason that he was choosing not to tell anyone about it, rather than because Valkyrie made him swear on his nonexistent heart that he wouldn't.
As noon rolled around, and he still hadn't gotten a call from Valkyrie, Skulduggery decided they needed to check in on Solomon. Necromancy withdrawal was vicious, and he couldn't exactly put off the visit any longer. Not now that Solomon knew the truth about Vile, and would no doubt want to know what was happening to him.
Skulduggery stopped beside the Bentley and looked down at his suit. Soaking wet, probably ruined - or at least in dire need of tailoring. That should perk Ghastly up. With barely a glance around to make sure no one was watching, Skulduggery condensed all the water off the fabric and let it fall as a brief shower of rain onto the asphalt of the parking lot. It left a lot of sand and salt he could do nothing about, and the thought of all that beach in his car... he physically shuddered, using the new skin he'd finally relented and let Gabe pull back up sometime during the early hours of the morning. Whenever people started showing up.
Without a word, he did the same drying procedure for Gabe. He didn't see a point in asking permission. Gabe couldn't do it himself, and there was no way he was getting in the Bentley with his clothes looking like that.
"So." Skulduggery unlocked the Bentley with a quick press of a button, but he couldn't quite bring himself to open the door. Not yet. "Still want to stop by the carnival, or would you mind paying the Hibernian a visit first?"
no subject
His suit was wet, and although the noonday sun beat down nice and strong, it was doing very little to dry it. Skulduggery held his equally dripping hat in his hand, taking a moment to mourn its loss, before wondering whether it was even possible to dry clean hats.
That was one of the more interesting nights Skulduggery ever had. In fact, it was second only to that time he managed to convince Valkyrie that if she danced on one leg in the middle of a field and chanted, she'd attract unicorns. Valkyrie was surprisingly gullible for someone so jaded. It never failed to bring him endless amounts of amusement, no matter how hard she sulked later. Or how hard she hit him.
This night, however, was interesting for a very different reason. It seemed like a perfectly logical idea, at the time, when Gabe suggested the two of them get started on tracking down Davina Marr right away because who knew what Raphael was going to say next. Skulduggery had wholeheartedly agreed. It wasn't until he stopped to think that he realised things would likely get very, very awkward.
Except... they did, and they didn't. It was strange. The investigation kept them focused enough that any potential awkwardness was dispelled before it even started, but it was definitely there. Persistent. Ever-present. A niggling thing in the back of Skulduggery's mind, even as he pieced new information together. They learned, for example, that Davina had not so much as a single friend in Ireland (not surprising at all), nor was any of her contact information at the Sanctuary still valid (even less surprising). She had no family back in Boston, nor anyone who might have any idea where she was, and as far as anyone knew she had no ties to anywhere else in the world.
And still, the awkwardness prevailed.
For a detective who worked for two important Sanctuaries, Davina Marr was like a leaf in the wind. It was possible she'd paid someone to remove any trace of her existence, or her future movements. And yet, Skulduggery was pretty sure she hadn't left Ireland. She couldn't, even if she'd had a reason to - which she didn't anymore, since her grand plan failed and the Sanctuary didn't blow up.
Now it was just a matter of finding her.
They'd done all they could for the moment. Skulduggery called in some old favours, created new debts to other contacts who immediately agreed to help out the instant they heard what Davina Marr had been planning to do, and eventually he was really just putting off the inevitable. Unless he started knocking on random apartment doors throughout Ireland searching for Marr - or, come to think of it, asking Gabe to do a scan, which was out of the question - he really needed to find a productive way to spend the rest of the night, of which there remained a good few hours.
So he drove. And somehow, they ended up on a beach.
And finally, they talked.
Skulduggery wasn't wrong back there, it turned out. That was definitely their souls, interacting the way they were. Not that Skulduggery had any reason to doubt it, what with having Gabriel's true name and all. But there was one really important question he needed to ask - was the new interaction permanent? Because while he didn't see burnished gold drifting in the air, or feel any of what Gabe was feeling, he could still feel something. A touch. Quite similar, actually, to what he had been feeling almost the entire time, and one of the reasons he'd nearly lost control of himself when Gabe disappeared - that touch, without Skulduggery's knowledge or permission, had inextricably wormed its way into who he was.
Gabe's answer essentially boiled down to the fact that he had no idea. This was new, even to him. Apparently, he hadn't even thought about the possibility of anything being permanent before.
Comforting, it was not.
That led to the all-important question of whether Gabe was still going to go back home. Or rather, making sure that he would. So when Gabe left Skulduggery with the impression that he was reconsidering even that, Skulduggery turned to face him in the surf they were walking through, and adamantly insisted that he was not going to be the cause of some dimension out there losing two of their Archangels. That inevitably led to a brief argument, during which Skulduggery wanted to know more about the Cacophany and what made the Faceless Ones become the Faceless Ones. He demanded to know why Gabe wasn't more worried about the same thing happening to him. Gabe's answer wasn't exactly satisfying, and for a moment Skulduggery just looked at him - looked at this angel who'd risked everything for him, standing with water up to his ankles looking perfectly innocent after the ordeal he'd put everyone through for half a day.
Skulduggery looked at him, grunted, and caught Gabe in the chest with a blast of salty air - like a shove, but with a bit more force behind it. Gabe had gone tumbling backwards right into an oncoming wave, come up soaking wet and spluttering, and Skulduggery couldn't help it - he laughed.
It was certainly one of the more interesting nights he was never going to tell anyone about. But this one was satisfying for the sole reason that he was choosing not to tell anyone about it, rather than because Valkyrie made him swear on his nonexistent heart that he wouldn't.
As noon rolled around, and he still hadn't gotten a call from Valkyrie, Skulduggery decided they needed to check in on Solomon. Necromancy withdrawal was vicious, and he couldn't exactly put off the visit any longer. Not now that Solomon knew the truth about Vile, and would no doubt want to know what was happening to him.
Skulduggery stopped beside the Bentley and looked down at his suit. Soaking wet, probably ruined - or at least in dire need of tailoring. That should perk Ghastly up. With barely a glance around to make sure no one was watching, Skulduggery condensed all the water off the fabric and let it fall as a brief shower of rain onto the asphalt of the parking lot. It left a lot of sand and salt he could do nothing about, and the thought of all that beach in his car... he physically shuddered, using the new skin he'd finally relented and let Gabe pull back up sometime during the early hours of the morning. Whenever people started showing up.
Without a word, he did the same drying procedure for Gabe. He didn't see a point in asking permission. Gabe couldn't do it himself, and there was no way he was getting in the Bentley with his clothes looking like that.
"So." Skulduggery unlocked the Bentley with a quick press of a button, but he couldn't quite bring himself to open the door. Not yet. "Still want to stop by the carnival, or would you mind paying the Hibernian a visit first?"