"Hello, Skulduggery," Descry said from underneath Erskine and Saracen. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up at all. "I'd ask how you've been, but I think I've got the gist already."

"Raphael." Gabe crossed his arms and glared, but the glare was rather softened by the dancing laughter in his eyes. "You are awful at keeping surprises."

"It's not my fault," Rafe protested, pointing an accusing finger at Rover. The Elemental was already laughing. "It's Larrikin's fault! He refused to report for duty and wanted to skive off to spy on his old buddies! He broke our cover, not me!"

"And you let him?"

Rafe grinned. "It was his animal magnetism."

"I have very powerful magnetism," Rover agreed, steering Dexter over to the pile on the floor so he tripped over someone's leg, yelped, and fell on top of them. Rover pulled himself away from the Adept's grabbing hands and whirled to Ghastly, arms outstretched. "C'mere, Bespoke. Let's have a cuddle before I go and toss you into the snugglepile."

"Wait a minute." Corrival stood, pushing back his chair. "I've been sitting here a long time and haven't gotten any greetings yet. Let Bespoke find his brain first."

"Of course, mon general." Rover bowed with a flourish and then yelped when he found himself yanked into a tight grip. He coughed when Corrival pounded his back and then pulled back, the older man's face nearly splitting with a grin.

"Dead Men," he said, shaking his head. "Figures you lot can't be kept down. You'd got the luck of the gods."

"I like to think we've got the luck of the angels," Descry pointed out.

"Ghastly, save me," Rover wheezed, holding out his arms for the tailor. "I think our beloved general broke my back."