It wasn't that Gabriel was actively taking Skulduggery's anger at all, because he wasn't. But his wing was curled closely around the skeleton's shoulders, a steadying influence, an inviting influence--offering to take whatever of Skulduggery's anger he felt he couldn't handle. The Archangel looked back with a reassuring smile, his wing squeezing gently in a metaphysical hug of confirmation.

Solomon was still watching Raphael, not answering immediately. When he did, it was slow and soft, a little burred by sleepiness and accent. "Because it reminds me of what I only just learned. Pain isn't to be shied from. Death isn't to be shied from. Seeing these things I can has given me to strength to stand unafraid for the first time in my life, Valkyrie. It doesn't matter how it happened. That reminder isn't something I want to give up."

Rafe looked down at him, still with that smile, hand resting on his hair. Kenspeckle shook his head. "Idiot heroes," he grumbled, "leaving me to clean up the mess." He sounded resigned, more than censuring, as he came to the table dragging a tray. "How do you plan to treat him, then, Raphael?"

"I don't," Rafe said. "I'll assist you." He laughed at the mixed expression of surprise and gratification on Kenspeckle's face, and shrugged. "Doctor's orders not to strain myself and all, man. You can do this part."