Ghastly gave him the chair at the table with the sewing machine. Or rather, he rolled it out from behind the table and stepped back. Even if Dexter's looks weren't easy to figure out by now, the fact that his knees were shaking might have been a bit of a giveaway.

"I never assumed sex was involved," Ghastly muttered just loud enough for those paying attention to hear, while Dex sorted himself out. In an effort to steer the conversation away from those dangerous waters, the tailor cleared his throat and straightened up. "Is Solomon alright? Rafe had to drag Gabe back here."

"Oh, he'll be alright." There was something almost hasty about Skulduggery's response. "None the worse for wear. Bandages on his hand for a few days, a mandatory constant bodyguard, a new appreciation for the sort of magic he can do. Speaking of which," and Skulduggery returned his attention to the two Archangels, "apparently, he can throw pieces of the lifestream now. Should we be worried?"

An Elder hadn't been assassinated, then. That was good. The Sanctuary was going to have enough trouble rebuilding without its newly appointed leaders dropping like flies. Ghastly tuned them out, confident he'd get the details when and if he needed them, and put a hand on Dex's shoulder. "How are you holding up?" he asked quietly. "It's a lot to take in, I know."