Skulduggery numbly allowed himself to be pulled up, torn between the misplaced desire for this to be real and the certain resignation that it couldn't be. He'd made mistakes like this before, and they'd never ended well. He couldn't trust anything he saw or felt, not even the bones still in the bag he was holding.
What was wrong with believing it? Just for a moment? Skulduggery didn't have to be sure. This Gabe was encouraging him to run, and that was all he could ask for at the moment. Just someone real enough to hold onto until they inevitably vanished away back into the recesses of his mind. Just to hold off the pain a little longer.
He gave one short nod when Gabe picked up his hat. "Lost it a while ago," he explained, slightly surprised with how even his voice had become. "I came to without a hat or an arm." He dropped the bag on the ground, took the hat, and perched it on top of his skull. "I was more upset about the hat. Bones are easy to come by. A hat like that has to be custom-made."
Of course, he was good friends with the man who custom-made them - used to be good friends with the man who custom-made them - but that certainly didn't mean anything here.
With his hat back where it belonged, bolstering his hope despite his every effort to the contrary, Skulduggery glanced down into the bag on the ground. The humerus was easy to pick out. He picked the large bone up, and began twisting it back into its socket with a sharp intake of breath.
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What was wrong with believing it? Just for a moment? Skulduggery didn't have to be sure. This Gabe was encouraging him to run, and that was all he could ask for at the moment. Just someone real enough to hold onto until they inevitably vanished away back into the recesses of his mind. Just to hold off the pain a little longer.
He gave one short nod when Gabe picked up his hat. "Lost it a while ago," he explained, slightly surprised with how even his voice had become. "I came to without a hat or an arm." He dropped the bag on the ground, took the hat, and perched it on top of his skull. "I was more upset about the hat. Bones are easy to come by. A hat like that has to be custom-made."
Of course, he was good friends with the man who custom-made them - used to be good friends with the man who custom-made them - but that certainly didn't mean anything here.
With his hat back where it belonged, bolstering his hope despite his every effort to the contrary, Skulduggery glanced down into the bag on the ground. The humerus was easy to pick out. He picked the large bone up, and began twisting it back into its socket with a sharp intake of breath.