The thing about Skulduggery Pleasant was that he was not a man given to evasion on important things. Not unless he was teasing, and when he was teasing, he had very specific reactions. Reactions he wasn't showing at all right now.
Skulduggery Pleasant made no comment only when he couldn't lie about an important fact and yet didn't want to admit that fact. That fact, that incontrovertible truth, was a dull buzz in Dexter's head as he stared at the detective, not quite open-mouthed.
"But--you--"
He was vaguely aware that he was stammering and couldn't seem to do anything about it. Skulduggery Pleasant was in love with someone? Unironically? Genuinely?
Wreath was laughing to himself. The only reason Dexter didn't snap at him was because he was, frankly, too stunned to do so. Besides, Corrival was sitting back and chuckling too. Dexter found he almost didn't mind that. Hell, he probably wouldn't mind it if it was someone else, but since it wasn't, he did mind it. Quite a bit.
The comment about Vile was heard distantly at first but it slowly sank in as a deep, clutching coldness. They didn't joke about Vile. Not without the jokes being dark. This was dark, but not joking. They'd found out something about Vile, something Skulduggery didn't want to talk about. Something he was going to ask Ghastly to do instead.
All of a sudden Dexter didn't want to hear anything at all. It took a moment for him to overcome his unintentional impression of a fish, but then he finally managed to find words. "Met a guy in Australia who knows Ghastly. You're in love with someone?!"
Almost on the heels of his words there came a knock at the door.
"Get your arse in here if you're meant to be here, clear out if you're not," Corrival called, and there was a pause. Then, hesitantly, the door cracked open and a curly-haired head poked inside.
"Healer, sir," said the woman rather nervously.
Corrival lifted an eyebrow. "What did I just say?"
"Er ..."
"No one here has any sense of humour," the old man muttered, then sighed and beckoned. "Wreath, present arms."
"If you so insist." With a tightening in his face that said how much the injuries hurt, Wreath peeled his arm away from his coat and showed it to the Healer. All this byplay washed past Dexter as easily as debris in a clear but fast-moving current. He was too busy staring, his mind trying to wrap itself around Skulduggery Pleasant being in love.
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Skulduggery Pleasant made no comment only when he couldn't lie about an important fact and yet didn't want to admit that fact. That fact, that incontrovertible truth, was a dull buzz in Dexter's head as he stared at the detective, not quite open-mouthed.
"But--you--"
He was vaguely aware that he was stammering and couldn't seem to do anything about it. Skulduggery Pleasant was in love with someone? Unironically? Genuinely?
Wreath was laughing to himself. The only reason Dexter didn't snap at him was because he was, frankly, too stunned to do so. Besides, Corrival was sitting back and chuckling too. Dexter found he almost didn't mind that. Hell, he probably wouldn't mind it if it was someone else, but since it wasn't, he did mind it. Quite a bit.
The comment about Vile was heard distantly at first but it slowly sank in as a deep, clutching coldness. They didn't joke about Vile. Not without the jokes being dark. This was dark, but not joking. They'd found out something about Vile, something Skulduggery didn't want to talk about. Something he was going to ask Ghastly to do instead.
All of a sudden Dexter didn't want to hear anything at all. It took a moment for him to overcome his unintentional impression of a fish, but then he finally managed to find words. "Met a guy in Australia who knows Ghastly. You're in love with someone?!"
Almost on the heels of his words there came a knock at the door.
"Get your arse in here if you're meant to be here, clear out if you're not," Corrival called, and there was a pause. Then, hesitantly, the door cracked open and a curly-haired head poked inside.
"Healer, sir," said the woman rather nervously.
Corrival lifted an eyebrow. "What did I just say?"
"Er ..."
"No one here has any sense of humour," the old man muttered, then sighed and beckoned. "Wreath, present arms."
"If you so insist." With a tightening in his face that said how much the injuries hurt, Wreath peeled his arm away from his coat and showed it to the Healer. All this byplay washed past Dexter as easily as debris in a clear but fast-moving current. He was too busy staring, his mind trying to wrap itself around Skulduggery Pleasant being in love.