"What about now?" Erskine asked once Rover had effectively pushed his feet off Dexter entirely. "Can I speak without giving you vibrations now?"
"I don't see why not," Skulduggery answered Corrival's rhetorical question, unintentionally giving his answer a minor case of unfortunate timing. He realised it when Erskine sniggered, but continued on like nothing had happened. "Tipstaff would have called if anything burned down, and the three of you have done the work of a small army recently. Michael? Can I face the people I'm talking to, please?"
He was still uncomfortable. Not because of the hug, but because Skulduggery didn't view any of his recent actions as reasons to believe he should be thanked. In his mind, they were nothing more than what anyone else would have done, or should have done, if they were in the same situation. Michael could have told him that wasn't true. Michael could have told him that there were very few people who would see an Archangel burning in a hole that looked like it was made by a meteorite, and immediately think to throw themselves down and take on part of the pain.
But he didn't. Because now wasn't the time, and because nothing short of his Master's word would convince the skeleton detective - if anything ever would. So with one last grateful squeeze, Michael let Skulduggery go, and ruffled the fur on Gabe's head one last time before he walked over to Solomon's couch and sank down into the corner of it. Close enough to the others that he could be considered part of their conversations, but far enough away that he would seem a distance removed to the casual observer.
And the casual observer would be right. Angels could lose themselves in their focus on and appreciation of a single thing - as Michael often did - but they could focus on many things at once as well. Right now, even as Michael listened intently to every following word, he was paying the same amount of attention to catching up through Gabe and Rafe's memories, learning more about the sorcerers of this world, and deciding on the best way to put together a soul-leash.
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"I don't see why not," Skulduggery answered Corrival's rhetorical question, unintentionally giving his answer a minor case of unfortunate timing. He realised it when Erskine sniggered, but continued on like nothing had happened. "Tipstaff would have called if anything burned down, and the three of you have done the work of a small army recently. Michael? Can I face the people I'm talking to, please?"
He was still uncomfortable. Not because of the hug, but because Skulduggery didn't view any of his recent actions as reasons to believe he should be thanked. In his mind, they were nothing more than what anyone else would have done, or should have done, if they were in the same situation. Michael could have told him that wasn't true. Michael could have told him that there were very few people who would see an Archangel burning in a hole that looked like it was made by a meteorite, and immediately think to throw themselves down and take on part of the pain.
But he didn't. Because now wasn't the time, and because nothing short of his Master's word would convince the skeleton detective - if anything ever would. So with one last grateful squeeze, Michael let Skulduggery go, and ruffled the fur on Gabe's head one last time before he walked over to Solomon's couch and sank down into the corner of it. Close enough to the others that he could be considered part of their conversations, but far enough away that he would seem a distance removed to the casual observer.
And the casual observer would be right. Angels could lose themselves in their focus on and appreciation of a single thing - as Michael often did - but they could focus on many things at once as well. Right now, even as Michael listened intently to every following word, he was paying the same amount of attention to catching up through Gabe and Rafe's memories, learning more about the sorcerers of this world, and deciding on the best way to put together a soul-leash.