"I slept on you while you were sleeping," Erskine shot back with far less blithe from where he lay stunned on the carpet. There wasn't as much confidence in his soul as there was in his words, namely because much of the previous evening was a blur in Erskine's mind. He wasn't completely sure of what he had and hadn't done.
Michael could have assuaged his fears, and meant to eventually, but all of his considerable attention was currently focused on Gabe. He hadn't taken his hand away yet, letting it follow the curves of the cat's body and ruffle the fur on the back of its neck. He'd had faith he would see his brother again, but there was always something different between having faith and seeing the reality.
Gabe was here, and he was alright. He was better than alright. He was experiencing feelings Michael never had. Michael couldn't be happier for him.
"I don't want to be awake," Erskine mumbled to the ceiling.
"Then stop spreading it to the rest of us," said Saracen. He hadn't opened his eyes once, and nor did he intend to. "Think I prefer my American drinking buddies. They treat the morning like the holy period it is." He pointed in what was undoubtedly meant to be Michael's direction. "No offense meant."
"None taken." Michael smiled. "It wouldn't be a very holy place without angels, would it?"
Skulduggery stirred underneath Gabe's purring. "D'we have another angel?"
"I'm sorry I have to drop in on you all like this," said Michael by way of an answer. "I wish I came bearing good news."
"No angel's ever come bearing good news," Erskine continued his conversation with the ceiling. "Don't let it get you down. We handle this all the time."
Skulduggery's eyes flickered open. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't waking up with a hangover supposed to hurt?"
Over on the carpet, Erskine's face blanked. He disentangled himself from the teddy bear blanket he'd been wrapped up in when Solomon shoved him off the couch, pushed himself to his feet, walked over, and draped the blanket over Skulduggery's head. It was just large enough to envelop Gabe and Michael's hand, as well. "Your family-in-law," Erskine told the blanket, "is no excuse for you to gloat."
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Michael could have assuaged his fears, and meant to eventually, but all of his considerable attention was currently focused on Gabe. He hadn't taken his hand away yet, letting it follow the curves of the cat's body and ruffle the fur on the back of its neck. He'd had faith he would see his brother again, but there was always something different between having faith and seeing the reality.
Gabe was here, and he was alright. He was better than alright. He was experiencing feelings Michael never had. Michael couldn't be happier for him.
"I don't want to be awake," Erskine mumbled to the ceiling.
"Then stop spreading it to the rest of us," said Saracen. He hadn't opened his eyes once, and nor did he intend to. "Think I prefer my American drinking buddies. They treat the morning like the holy period it is." He pointed in what was undoubtedly meant to be Michael's direction. "No offense meant."
"None taken." Michael smiled. "It wouldn't be a very holy place without angels, would it?"
Skulduggery stirred underneath Gabe's purring. "D'we have another angel?"
"I'm sorry I have to drop in on you all like this," said Michael by way of an answer. "I wish I came bearing good news."
"No angel's ever come bearing good news," Erskine continued his conversation with the ceiling. "Don't let it get you down. We handle this all the time."
Skulduggery's eyes flickered open. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't waking up with a hangover supposed to hurt?"
Over on the carpet, Erskine's face blanked. He disentangled himself from the teddy bear blanket he'd been wrapped up in when Solomon shoved him off the couch, pushed himself to his feet, walked over, and draped the blanket over Skulduggery's head. It was just large enough to envelop Gabe and Michael's hand, as well. "Your family-in-law," Erskine told the blanket, "is no excuse for you to gloat."