Rover yelped as he fell. Anton didn't. He did twist so Rover landed on the bottom, and then rolled off onto Erskine's lap beside Descry. Without a word he reached out and gripped the mind-reader's shoulder, and Descry finally opened his eyes to smile up at him.
"Yes, Skulduggery, join us," Rover wheezed, clambering onto his hands and feet and then flopping across Dexter, Saracen and Descry's legs, beckoning the skeleton with a grin. "I think you're about due for an orgy with other Dead Men. By the way, love the wig."
"I gave it to him," Gabe said with a beam. "It was a gift."
"Told you," Corrival muttered, heaving himself up off the sofa and wandering around it. "Wrapped around his pinkie. Move it or lose it, Vex." With that warning he sat down by the wall on the far side of the cuddlepile, pulling Descry's head onto his lap.
Dexter shuffled over to give him space, but he was staring at Fletcher. "Oh, you're going to regret asking that."
"Well, firstly, you take off the lady's clothes," Rover began. "And then you--"
"I'm not sure I should be listening to this," Gabe murmured.
"Oh, fine, I'll talk to Ghastly. Hey, Ghastly, you do remember how supple extra-virgin olive-oil makes things, right? And you have noticed your girlfriend wears leather, right?"
"Go on," Gabe said to Skulduggery with another nudge. "They need someone sane in there. Or relatively sane, anyway. And when Tipstaff comes in, you can always blame it on someone else."
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"Yes, Skulduggery, join us," Rover wheezed, clambering onto his hands and feet and then flopping across Dexter, Saracen and Descry's legs, beckoning the skeleton with a grin. "I think you're about due for an orgy with other Dead Men. By the way, love the wig."
"I gave it to him," Gabe said with a beam. "It was a gift."
"Told you," Corrival muttered, heaving himself up off the sofa and wandering around it. "Wrapped around his pinkie. Move it or lose it, Vex." With that warning he sat down by the wall on the far side of the cuddlepile, pulling Descry's head onto his lap.
Dexter shuffled over to give him space, but he was staring at Fletcher. "Oh, you're going to regret asking that."
"Well, firstly, you take off the lady's clothes," Rover began. "And then you--"
"I'm not sure I should be listening to this," Gabe murmured.
"Oh, fine, I'll talk to Ghastly. Hey, Ghastly, you do remember how supple extra-virgin olive-oil makes things, right? And you have noticed your girlfriend wears leather, right?"
"Go on," Gabe said to Skulduggery with another nudge. "They need someone sane in there. Or relatively sane, anyway. And when Tipstaff comes in, you can always blame it on someone else."