Skulduggery, for his part, was perfectly happy to ruin the so-called 'Moment' with business. While generally positive and life-affirming, there were very few instances of Moments actually being practically useful. Skulduggery could remember only one in his lifetime - the first time Dexter used Rue, and the moment he dropped the act. That was when the Dead Men first became the Dead Men. A unit, rather than a group of men. A family with connections beyond just the war and their role in it.

This - this was not one of those Moments. "In that case," Skulduggery continued smoothly, "is there any way to tell when he has arrived? Would you and Gabriel know if he arrived right now, for example?" He would imagine not. Lucifer wouldn't have been such a threat for millenia if he hadn't learned over the years how to be subtle.

Erskine was shaking his head. "And to think that we once believed nothing could be worse than Mevolent. Remember that, Dex? Larrikin was pretending to be the Unnamed, and Anton - "

He didn't get a chance to finish, because Tipstaff interrupted them. Erskine raised an eyebrow as Dexter read the message aloud, and while Skulduggery did the same, his wasn't nearly as visible.

Erskine was the first to speak, slowly and with a widening grin. "Why, Solomon. Taking your title to heart, are we? Is this your first conversion?"

Title? Skulduggery nearly asked, before remembering the impromptu election for himself. Prophet Wreath. He'd thought the name was fitting at the time, and wasn't all that surprised to see that a Necromancer was already questioning centuries of held belief. Skulduggery, more than anyone, knew how much power even one person could hold if it was applied in the right way. Solomon might consider himself a loner, but it couldn't be long now before others followed in his clearly successful footsteps.

"She does sound rather desperate," Skulduggery agreed. "You must have made an impression. Perhaps it's time to liaise with Paddy?"