"Yep," Stephanie agreed with a halfway-startled nod. "Fire usually is."
Desmond decided he couldn't look at it. He had no idea what part of him was in charge of making that decision, or how they arrived at that decision, or what intermediaries they went through to process all of the information his eyes were still claiming couldn't possibly be happening. But whatever it was, it made the decision for him, and Desmond looked away.
That seemed to be all his subconscious mind was offering up, though. Desmond was left staring down at the tablecloth, waiting for another decision to be made for him, and nothing came. The path was too well-worn. He'd left this world behind a long time ago, made a conscious decision to live in the real world, because there was no point in indulging fantasies that weren't real. No matter how much he wished they were. Living in a fantasy world was something writers did, to an unhealthy extent, and Gordon was no exception. Gordon believed enough for the both of them, and Desmond reluctantly accepted that as the way of things far too long ago to start accepting anything different now.
And with no idea how to accept anything new, he had no idea how to react. In the end, all he could really manage was a slightly strangled tone. "Right. How long have you been able to do that, then?"
"Since..." Stephanie swallowed. "Since Gordon died."
Since Melissa started commenting that Stephanie seemed more distant. Another piece of the puzzle to slot into place. Des just had no idea where to slot it into place. "Where did you learn it?"
The words had scarcely left his mouth before he figured out the answer for himself, and turned to look at Mr. Pleasant. Skulduggery Pleasant was a name Des had recognised from the lawyer's office the last time Stephanie paraded her new friends in here, but hadn't mentioned because Stephanie didn't. He and Melissa both made it a point not to chase Stephanie up over things; she was honest where she needed to be, mature enough to know when she needed to be honest, and wise enough to know that nothing in life lasted. Des still believed that. She was telling them the truth now.
It didn't soften the surge of anger he suddenly felt towards Pleasant. "You were teaching her? This whole time? Did you know she was keeping it all a secret?"
"I did." Pleasant's head inclined to the side. "It wasn't my place to tell her anything different."
"Not your - " Des stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed himself down. "Can you... do magic, too?"
"Yes."
"And you?" he directed towards Gabe. "And what was his name, Fletcher? Could Gordon?"
no subject
Desmond decided he couldn't look at it. He had no idea what part of him was in charge of making that decision, or how they arrived at that decision, or what intermediaries they went through to process all of the information his eyes were still claiming couldn't possibly be happening. But whatever it was, it made the decision for him, and Desmond looked away.
That seemed to be all his subconscious mind was offering up, though. Desmond was left staring down at the tablecloth, waiting for another decision to be made for him, and nothing came. The path was too well-worn. He'd left this world behind a long time ago, made a conscious decision to live in the real world, because there was no point in indulging fantasies that weren't real. No matter how much he wished they were. Living in a fantasy world was something writers did, to an unhealthy extent, and Gordon was no exception. Gordon believed enough for the both of them, and Desmond reluctantly accepted that as the way of things far too long ago to start accepting anything different now.
And with no idea how to accept anything new, he had no idea how to react. In the end, all he could really manage was a slightly strangled tone. "Right. How long have you been able to do that, then?"
"Since..." Stephanie swallowed. "Since Gordon died."
Since Melissa started commenting that Stephanie seemed more distant. Another piece of the puzzle to slot into place. Des just had no idea where to slot it into place. "Where did you learn it?"
The words had scarcely left his mouth before he figured out the answer for himself, and turned to look at Mr. Pleasant. Skulduggery Pleasant was a name Des had recognised from the lawyer's office the last time Stephanie paraded her new friends in here, but hadn't mentioned because Stephanie didn't. He and Melissa both made it a point not to chase Stephanie up over things; she was honest where she needed to be, mature enough to know when she needed to be honest, and wise enough to know that nothing in life lasted. Des still believed that. She was telling them the truth now.
It didn't soften the surge of anger he suddenly felt towards Pleasant. "You were teaching her? This whole time? Did you know she was keeping it all a secret?"
"I did." Pleasant's head inclined to the side. "It wasn't my place to tell her anything different."
"Not your - " Des stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed himself down. "Can you... do magic, too?"
"Yes."
"And you?" he directed towards Gabe. "And what was his name, Fletcher? Could Gordon?"