"He sounds fascinating," Gabe said with a grin. "The marriage of science and magic? I don't think anyone's come up with ways to do that in my world yet. They tend to be exclusive. I'm looking forward to meeting him."
No matter Skulduggery's warnings, Gabriel couldn't help but feel sorry for Fletcher. Here was a young man who was still trying to adjust to the world of magic, and now he'd been flung into something even more amazing. It was obvious he had trouble adjusting to sudden changes, and although Gabriel laid no blame on them it was obvious Fletcher's friends didn't have the patience to handle his tendencies for long.
So when Valkyrie apologised on Fletcher's behalf, Gabriel only smiled at her reassuringly. "I don't mind. True belief isn't easy." Then he turned to Fletcher and said, "By the strictest definition, I really am a hobo." He grinned. "In fact, all my brothers and sisters are, when you get down to it." And it was true; all angels were itinerant workers, who had a home and rarely returned to it. They had no money and often travelled just to visit favourite sites, but in the end they did the work no one else could or would. What else could they be called? It was a distinction they held with pride. "It's just that we're hobos and a bit more. Now you know that there is more, that's all."
The Archangel would have liked to spend a bit more time with the young man, reassuring him, maybe answering a few questions, but there was a sense of urgency. It was with a bit of regret that Gabriel turned to Skulduggery, biting his lip. "I don't know. I've never been injured before--not like this. Nor have any of my siblings, that I'm aware."
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No matter Skulduggery's warnings, Gabriel couldn't help but feel sorry for Fletcher. Here was a young man who was still trying to adjust to the world of magic, and now he'd been flung into something even more amazing. It was obvious he had trouble adjusting to sudden changes, and although Gabriel laid no blame on them it was obvious Fletcher's friends didn't have the patience to handle his tendencies for long.
So when Valkyrie apologised on Fletcher's behalf, Gabriel only smiled at her reassuringly. "I don't mind. True belief isn't easy." Then he turned to Fletcher and said, "By the strictest definition, I really am a hobo." He grinned. "In fact, all my brothers and sisters are, when you get down to it." And it was true; all angels were itinerant workers, who had a home and rarely returned to it. They had no money and often travelled just to visit favourite sites, but in the end they did the work no one else could or would. What else could they be called? It was a distinction they held with pride. "It's just that we're hobos and a bit more. Now you know that there is more, that's all."
The Archangel would have liked to spend a bit more time with the young man, reassuring him, maybe answering a few questions, but there was a sense of urgency. It was with a bit of regret that Gabriel turned to Skulduggery, biting his lip. "I don't know. I've never been injured before--not like this. Nor have any of my siblings, that I'm aware."