Ghastly laughed, a sound both as startling as it was welcome just then. "You don't need to be in my shop for that, Dexter. I'd know your measurements from a photo. Not too different from the first suit I ever made you." The Adept had lost a little bit of weight, really, and that was it. A life constantly on the move, it wasn't too surprising. "Just let me finish up the Elder robes before I start on any new projects."
Those old robes. Really. Whatever happened to them, Ghastly hoped it involved fire. He'd disliked getting involved in Sanctuary matters for the longest time - still did - and that pretentious posturing was part of the reason why.
You'd think, given enough strong shocks over such a short time span, that it would be impossible to be startled by anything else. That didn't seem to be the case, though. Dexter's words were jarring, and in a rather odd way. Ghastly turned to look at them both, fighting to quell an inappropriate surge of jealousy. "You two know each other?"
"You could say that." Tanith smiled sheepishly back. "Hey, Saracen. Glad you got rid of the wig. This looks a lot better." Her smile slid into a frown. "Unless this is the wig, in which case you should probably keep it on."
"Where do you two know each other from?" Ghastly pressed.
"Oh, we just ran into each other fighting the same pack of bloodthirsty zombies once," Tanith explained, unsatisfactorily and with a self-conscious shrug. "It wasn't long. We killed a bunch of zombies and then we went our separate ways. I had no idea his name wasn't really Saracen."
Ghastly debated asking why, if it was such a short meeting, they were both looking so sheepish. Or how Tanith managed to recognise a man whose disguise was good enough to practically fool even the Dead Men during the war. He was about to, but then Ghastly decided that knowing the answer really wasn't going to make him feel any better. So he didn't. Instead, he glanced towards the skeleton detective. "Skulduggery, you're quiet."
The impassive skull turned, sharply, towards him. "I have a bit of a dilemma. Given how tense things were just a few minutes ago, would you rather I acted like nothing happened, or gave you the space to relax?"
Ghastly blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Corrival seems to prefer the former. It doesn't quite feel right, but I can understand the sentiment. Which would you rather? If I made a joke right now, for example, would it make you more angry, or would it help?"
"Uh..." Ghastly was well and truly at a loss for what to say. Not because he didn't know the answer, but because he couldn't understand why Skulduggery - Skulduggery - had to ask. "Depends. What's the joke?"
"Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"Yes."
Skulduggery nodded, went quiet for another moment, and then shook his head. "There wasn't a joke. I just needed an example. Dexter, since you're back in the country and no doubt jumping at the chance to help us out, Solomon is in need of a bodyguard he can trust. Interested?"
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Those old robes. Really. Whatever happened to them, Ghastly hoped it involved fire. He'd disliked getting involved in Sanctuary matters for the longest time - still did - and that pretentious posturing was part of the reason why.
You'd think, given enough strong shocks over such a short time span, that it would be impossible to be startled by anything else. That didn't seem to be the case, though. Dexter's words were jarring, and in a rather odd way. Ghastly turned to look at them both, fighting to quell an inappropriate surge of jealousy. "You two know each other?"
"You could say that." Tanith smiled sheepishly back. "Hey, Saracen. Glad you got rid of the wig. This looks a lot better." Her smile slid into a frown. "Unless this is the wig, in which case you should probably keep it on."
"Where do you two know each other from?" Ghastly pressed.
"Oh, we just ran into each other fighting the same pack of bloodthirsty zombies once," Tanith explained, unsatisfactorily and with a self-conscious shrug. "It wasn't long. We killed a bunch of zombies and then we went our separate ways. I had no idea his name wasn't really Saracen."
Ghastly debated asking why, if it was such a short meeting, they were both looking so sheepish. Or how Tanith managed to recognise a man whose disguise was good enough to practically fool even the Dead Men during the war. He was about to, but then Ghastly decided that knowing the answer really wasn't going to make him feel any better. So he didn't. Instead, he glanced towards the skeleton detective. "Skulduggery, you're quiet."
The impassive skull turned, sharply, towards him. "I have a bit of a dilemma. Given how tense things were just a few minutes ago, would you rather I acted like nothing happened, or gave you the space to relax?"
Ghastly blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Corrival seems to prefer the former. It doesn't quite feel right, but I can understand the sentiment. Which would you rather? If I made a joke right now, for example, would it make you more angry, or would it help?"
"Uh..." Ghastly was well and truly at a loss for what to say. Not because he didn't know the answer, but because he couldn't understand why Skulduggery - Skulduggery - had to ask. "Depends. What's the joke?"
"Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"Yes."
Skulduggery nodded, went quiet for another moment, and then shook his head. "There wasn't a joke. I just needed an example. Dexter, since you're back in the country and no doubt jumping at the chance to help us out, Solomon is in need of a bodyguard he can trust. Interested?"