That was... good, in one sense. Erskine had noticed how relaxed Descry was, how much happier he looked, how much freer he was. And Erskine knew he wasn't the only one to notice, either. Skulduggery never missed anything, and Saracen had never been a target of Descry's fatherly affection so often before.

But at the same time, there was something else different. Nothing bad, exactly, but still different. Descry had always had a way about him, that quiet confidence of someone who knew things, and it was one of the traits that marked him. Now, it was exacerbated. Increased tenfold. Like Descry wasn't even human anymore, speaking from the position of... well, of an angel. An Archangel.

... And he could hear every single word of that, of course. Out of habit, Erskine blanked his mind, realised he didn't really have anything to be ashamed of, and then shook his head. Descry had been dead for too long. Erskine had forgotten everything about handling him.

Not handling him. Dealing with - no. Acting around him? Maybe.

"I think that's great," Ghastly said. "You've more than deserved it. Heaven's everything it's cracked up to be, is it?"

Handling his ability. Not Descry. Descry had always been a joy to handle. So to speak.