"Trying to be." It was silly, and childish, to be so hurt by the fact that he wasn't remembered in amidst of all the people Skulduggery, as Lord Vile, had killed. Solomon couldn't help it. Children in the Temple didn't really get childhoods. That probably explained Craven, actually.
Ghastly had always been Skulduggery's best friend. Not that Solomon had ever resented him--well, maybe once or twice--but he'd always been nice and helpful. Solomon had liked him, back then, but he had still always been Skulduggery's friend, not Solomon's.
Except for now. Solomon's respect had gone up by whole notches just before, with how Ghastly kept going and didn't stop being Skulduggery's friend. Now Solomon felt an unexpected rush of relief and warmth for the man, at the firm assertion that Solomon was nothing like Vile. It was one of those things he had avoided thinking about, that wondering of just how like Vile he was. He doubted he'd stop wondering for a while, but--it helped. To have it stated like that, without needing to ask.
For long moments he didn't answer, because he wasn't sure what to say. Asking Skulduggery had never occurred. The man might not ignore a direct question, but that didn't mean he'd give a straight answer. And Solomon had spent so long trying to pretend he didn't care, he'd even almost managed to convince himself.
Did he want to ask? Did he want to know? Maybe. Maybe not. Something he'd have to think about. For now, he felt calmer, more stable, and a little embarrassed. But not enough to not say quietly, "Ghastly? Thank you."
The Dead Men had each other, but maybe he had Ghastly too.
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Ghastly had always been Skulduggery's best friend. Not that Solomon had ever resented him--well, maybe once or twice--but he'd always been nice and helpful. Solomon had liked him, back then, but he had still always been Skulduggery's friend, not Solomon's.
Except for now. Solomon's respect had gone up by whole notches just before, with how Ghastly kept going and didn't stop being Skulduggery's friend. Now Solomon felt an unexpected rush of relief and warmth for the man, at the firm assertion that Solomon was nothing like Vile. It was one of those things he had avoided thinking about, that wondering of just how like Vile he was. He doubted he'd stop wondering for a while, but--it helped. To have it stated like that, without needing to ask.
For long moments he didn't answer, because he wasn't sure what to say. Asking Skulduggery had never occurred. The man might not ignore a direct question, but that didn't mean he'd give a straight answer. And Solomon had spent so long trying to pretend he didn't care, he'd even almost managed to convince himself.
Did he want to ask? Did he want to know? Maybe. Maybe not. Something he'd have to think about. For now, he felt calmer, more stable, and a little embarrassed. But not enough to not say quietly, "Ghastly? Thank you."
The Dead Men had each other, but maybe he had Ghastly too.