"Is it wallowing, or is it clearing the air?" Corrival countered, his gaze on Skulduggery. "You weren't there for it, but way back when the unit was formed I gave everyone the chance to come out with things that might put them, or others, in danger if the rest of the squad didn't know it. Not everyone took me up on that like they should have."

He looked hard at Descry, who had the grace to look sheepish even with his eyes closed, as he threaded his prayer-rope between his fingers.

"Either way, I agree with Saracen," Rover objected, stretching and reclining back. "I think that's more than enough doom and gloom. No offence, Dex, I get that you needed to get that off your back, but--" He mustered a somewhat strained grin. "I think we should talk anger-management tactics, myself. I think we should talk about some glitter and sparkly wings and playing dress-ups."

Anton lifted an eyebrow. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Sue me, I don't have Skulduggery's capacity to be funny in the face of wrath. When did I ever give you the impression I could multitask?"

"Given that you held Erskine and Dexter back with a cold shoulder for weeks on end for something they did to me, absolutely never."

"Can we have puppies?" Rover asked plaintively. "I want puppies. I'd ask for hugs too, but I don't think I can leave my circle."

Something, coming from the direction of one of the angels--it was impossible to see which--came sailing over the span of the circle and landed on his head, tumbled off, and hit the ground with a soft thud. It was a big, very fluffy and very cuddly dog-plushie. Rover snatched it up and looked skyward. "Cheers, Man!"

"I want puppies too," Dexter muttered. "Does everyone remember the week Rover asked for maternity leave and then came back with an armful of newborn puppies? It'd been a while since I saw Corrival splutter like that."