Desmond had forgotten all about the lasagna. When Melissa called his attention back to it, he blinked with surprise. "Oh. Fridge. Yes. The fridge is fine." They could dump the whole thing in the trash, for all he cared. One of their guests couldn't even eat it.
He listened to the ensuing conversation with an odd sort of calm. Not a calm before a storm, or a strained calm, or a forced calm. Just a calm. The calm of someone who knew they'd be experiencing a lot of shocks in the coming days, and was mainly resigning themselves to those shocks now to save themselves a lot of trouble later. It was easier to do that when Melissa was asking the questions for both of them, reacting for the both of them, and hugging Stephanie for the both of them.
But there was something Melissa obviously hadn't thought of, and Des couldn't help asking about. "How much longer? How much longer do magic lives get?"
Mr. Pleasant was the one who answered. "About eight hundred years."
Des was glad he was still leaning against the kitchen door. He didn't think he would have been able to stand up under his own power otherwise. "Stephanie's going to live for eight hundred years?"
"If she keeps using magic, yes."
Stephanie was intelligent. And observant. And worthy of respect. But she was also fifteen, and while Des could understand treating her like the mature young woman she liked to present herself as, there was a difference between that and treating her like the child she still was. The very fact that she hid such a huge part of her own life from her own parents was proof of that. You could be the most level-headed and intelligent person around, and you were still capable of making stupid mistakes, especially when you still had the emotional maturity of a teenager.
"We'll talk about that later," he decided out loud, and meant to continue, but Stephanie cut him off.
"Dad, I'm not going to stop practicing magic. I don't want to stop being Skulduggery's partner. We save people. We've saved a lot of people. I'll tell you anything you want to know, and I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but please don't ask me to just stop."
"Steph..." Des shook his head. In all the father-daughter teenage scenarios he'd ever rehearsed inside his own head over the years, he'd never come across anything to help with this. "I'm not saying anything right now except that we'll talk about it later. And that you're going to school tomorrow, and showing us this reflection thing tonight so we won't be fooled again."
no subject
He listened to the ensuing conversation with an odd sort of calm. Not a calm before a storm, or a strained calm, or a forced calm. Just a calm. The calm of someone who knew they'd be experiencing a lot of shocks in the coming days, and was mainly resigning themselves to those shocks now to save themselves a lot of trouble later. It was easier to do that when Melissa was asking the questions for both of them, reacting for the both of them, and hugging Stephanie for the both of them.
But there was something Melissa obviously hadn't thought of, and Des couldn't help asking about. "How much longer? How much longer do magic lives get?"
Mr. Pleasant was the one who answered. "About eight hundred years."
Des was glad he was still leaning against the kitchen door. He didn't think he would have been able to stand up under his own power otherwise. "Stephanie's going to live for eight hundred years?"
"If she keeps using magic, yes."
Stephanie was intelligent. And observant. And worthy of respect. But she was also fifteen, and while Des could understand treating her like the mature young woman she liked to present herself as, there was a difference between that and treating her like the child she still was. The very fact that she hid such a huge part of her own life from her own parents was proof of that. You could be the most level-headed and intelligent person around, and you were still capable of making stupid mistakes, especially when you still had the emotional maturity of a teenager.
"We'll talk about that later," he decided out loud, and meant to continue, but Stephanie cut him off.
"Dad, I'm not going to stop practicing magic. I don't want to stop being Skulduggery's partner. We save people. We've saved a lot of people. I'll tell you anything you want to know, and I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but please don't ask me to just stop."
"Steph..." Des shook his head. In all the father-daughter teenage scenarios he'd ever rehearsed inside his own head over the years, he'd never come across anything to help with this. "I'm not saying anything right now except that we'll talk about it later. And that you're going to school tomorrow, and showing us this reflection thing tonight so we won't be fooled again."