It made Gabe grin too. He was still grinning by the time Paddy came, curled up in a chair and happily sipping at his piping-hot tea (because he, unlike most of the others, didn't need to wait for it to cool). It was a rather cat-like position which Solomon chose not to focus too hard upon, especially since the Archangel's whole demeanour was something like a contented kitten. (The fact that he was seated right next to Skulduggery didn't help with that notion.)

Solomon ignored them both, cupping his tea in his palms and breathing in the steam, and using it to centre himself. He felt at once glad and chilled now that he was here. Glad because he couldn't see the kitchen, and it had changed beyond measure as far as his experience was concerned.

Chilled, because he still knew where he was. Because beneath his feet, in the cellar, there was probably still a tainted barrel of holy water holding the remains of his Necromantic cane. Because there was a knife missing from these drawers, a knife he'd meant to use to shed blood.

The vision of the man on the cross still seemed to dance before his eyes.

"I lost the bread-knife," he said abruptly, without quite meaning to except that he felt as if some kind of explanation was needed. Something, anything, to break the not-silence in which he was bound. Something to acknowledge the then and get to the now and maybe in some way make it all stop being so much of a weight. "Sorry. I can--replace it."

He'd just need to ask someone to buy one for him.