"Over there?" Rover demanded, peering over at them with a mocking frown. "That's not how you do it! Sure, you can have a cuddlepile with three, but why bother when you can have a cuddlepile with the Dirty Dozen?" He leapt to his feet, tugging them closer to the Dead Men. "This is how you do it."
He spread his arms and let himself fall backwards onto the pile, with a corresponding groan from underneath him. "That," he said gleefully, "is how you do it. Now you guys give it a go."
"You know, given the whole forty-foot-wingspan thing, the angels are probably already involved in the cuddlepile," Dexter mused, "but the Prophet's just lying over there. I bet when he wakes up he'll feel retroactively left out too."
"Well, we need to fix that. We can't alienate one of the new Elders before we go and watch Skulduggery eat things." Rover jumped up again, took Dexter's hand and heaved him to his feet. He gave Valkyrie another little push toward the cuddlepile. "Go on, then. Cuddle. Look, there's a nice piece of Ghastly to flop over right there."
Dexter dusted himself off and dragged Rover's arm over his shoulder to lead him toward Solomon. "Come on, we can't waste time. Next thing we know Skulduggery will have an untameable appetite and we'd need his angel just to keep a leash on him."
"Isn't that what we're already doing?" Rover wondered. He stroked Solomon's hair. "There, there. Don't worry, little Prophet. We'll have you with friends soon."
"Only if you pull your weight," Dexter accused, taking one of the pillows and putting it under his arm.
"When do I ever not?"
Rover took Solomon under the arms and Dexter lifted his feet, and between the two they moved him over to the cuddlepile and lay him down beside Descry and Saracen. Dexter put the pillow under the ex-Necromancer's head and Rover patted his hair. "There. Prophet, meet Monk. Monk, meet Prophet."
"Hello, Prophet," Descry murmured lazily. Solomon did nothing except breathe, deep and slow, but if Dexter wasn't mistaken he looked more relaxed than Dexter had ever seen him while awake.
Except that Descry answered. "You're in a cuddlepile of Dead Men and Detectives. You'll probably think you were dreaming when you wake up."
"Can he hear us?" Dexter demanded. Descry opened one eye to look at him.
"Not in so many words. He's still asleep, he's just aware enough to know something's changed. I think it's more a soul-sensing thing than anything else."
"I forgot how creepy it was when you did that," Dexter grumbled, flopping across Solomon, Saracen and Descry's waists. Rover flopped across his.
"We need to re-acclimatise you, then. Maybe at lunner-time."
"It's only mid-afternoon," Corrival said. "It's too early to eat. Let's just relax for a bit."
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He spread his arms and let himself fall backwards onto the pile, with a corresponding groan from underneath him. "That," he said gleefully, "is how you do it. Now you guys give it a go."
"You know, given the whole forty-foot-wingspan thing, the angels are probably already involved in the cuddlepile," Dexter mused, "but the Prophet's just lying over there. I bet when he wakes up he'll feel retroactively left out too."
"Well, we need to fix that. We can't alienate one of the new Elders before we go and watch Skulduggery eat things." Rover jumped up again, took Dexter's hand and heaved him to his feet. He gave Valkyrie another little push toward the cuddlepile. "Go on, then. Cuddle. Look, there's a nice piece of Ghastly to flop over right there."
Dexter dusted himself off and dragged Rover's arm over his shoulder to lead him toward Solomon. "Come on, we can't waste time. Next thing we know Skulduggery will have an untameable appetite and we'd need his angel just to keep a leash on him."
"Isn't that what we're already doing?" Rover wondered. He stroked Solomon's hair. "There, there. Don't worry, little Prophet. We'll have you with friends soon."
"Only if you pull your weight," Dexter accused, taking one of the pillows and putting it under his arm.
"When do I ever not?"
Rover took Solomon under the arms and Dexter lifted his feet, and between the two they moved him over to the cuddlepile and lay him down beside Descry and Saracen. Dexter put the pillow under the ex-Necromancer's head and Rover patted his hair. "There. Prophet, meet Monk. Monk, meet Prophet."
"Hello, Prophet," Descry murmured lazily. Solomon did nothing except breathe, deep and slow, but if Dexter wasn't mistaken he looked more relaxed than Dexter had ever seen him while awake.
Except that Descry answered. "You're in a cuddlepile of Dead Men and Detectives. You'll probably think you were dreaming when you wake up."
"Can he hear us?" Dexter demanded. Descry opened one eye to look at him.
"Not in so many words. He's still asleep, he's just aware enough to know something's changed. I think it's more a soul-sensing thing than anything else."
"I forgot how creepy it was when you did that," Dexter grumbled, flopping across Solomon, Saracen and Descry's waists. Rover flopped across his.
"We need to re-acclimatise you, then. Maybe at lunner-time."
"It's only mid-afternoon," Corrival said. "It's too early to eat. Let's just relax for a bit."