Dexter had a point, Erskine thought. She was pretty. Pretty in a nondescript, vaguely Gothic sort of way, as could be expected from most Necromancers - even if she apparently wasn't a real Necromancer. She was still wearing the Temple robes, but the hood was down and her black hair was free of it, long and straight and tumbling down around her shoulders. Far too pale for Erskine's liking, but again. She was a Necromancer. When was the last time she came above ground?
One thing was clear. She did not look like the kind of woman who would leash so much as a dog, let alone another man.
Erskine was leaning casually back on the desk, most of his weight on his hands behind him, which were gripped around the edges of the desk for extra support. It was mainly an absentminded stance, a way to be comfortable while standing up, while Erskine listened to the ensuing conversation. But he became very aware of it a moment later, when Saffron's mention of Lord Vile caused one of his hands to slip. His elbow banged against the rough wooden edge on its way down, and Erskine reeled back upright with a hissed curse, cradling and rubbing it with his other hand.
He didn't get angry again, exactly, unless his desk counted as something to be angry at. But Erskine suspected it was going to be a very long time before he could manage to take news like that with any sort of graciousness, if he ever managed it at all. The Elder had to resist a glance back towards Skulduggery; it wasn't going to be much help without the skeleton's skin activated, and looking towards Skulduggery at any mention of Vile was a habit Erskine needed to break. Instead, he looked - quite sharply - towards Solomon.
"You fought Lord Vile?" he asked - almost demanded. "And he spared you? Why?" It couldn't be because of Skulduggery. It just... it couldn't. Because that would mean Skulduggery cared more about a Necromancer than about Ghastly's mother. "Are Necromancers automatically spared in the Passage?"
Would Vile have cared about something like that? Skulduggery said he left the Temple because he had no interest in saving the world.
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One thing was clear. She did not look like the kind of woman who would leash so much as a dog, let alone another man.
Erskine was leaning casually back on the desk, most of his weight on his hands behind him, which were gripped around the edges of the desk for extra support. It was mainly an absentminded stance, a way to be comfortable while standing up, while Erskine listened to the ensuing conversation. But he became very aware of it a moment later, when Saffron's mention of Lord Vile caused one of his hands to slip. His elbow banged against the rough wooden edge on its way down, and Erskine reeled back upright with a hissed curse, cradling and rubbing it with his other hand.
He didn't get angry again, exactly, unless his desk counted as something to be angry at. But Erskine suspected it was going to be a very long time before he could manage to take news like that with any sort of graciousness, if he ever managed it at all. The Elder had to resist a glance back towards Skulduggery; it wasn't going to be much help without the skeleton's skin activated, and looking towards Skulduggery at any mention of Vile was a habit Erskine needed to break. Instead, he looked - quite sharply - towards Solomon.
"You fought Lord Vile?" he asked - almost demanded. "And he spared you? Why?" It couldn't be because of Skulduggery. It just... it couldn't. Because that would mean Skulduggery cared more about a Necromancer than about Ghastly's mother. "Are Necromancers automatically spared in the Passage?"
Would Vile have cared about something like that? Skulduggery said he left the Temple because he had no interest in saving the world.