Skulduggery was left, once again, wondering where on earth the bad feeling was coming from. Gabe was now, if anything, reminding him of Ghastly; and Ghastly was one of the most noble men Skulduggery knew. Stubborn, though. And he tended to make most of his clothes indoors, bent over a sewing machine in the dark. The image was suddenly amusing when Skulduggery compared it to Gabe's vision of knitting in the sunset.

The tape was a clever idea. Skulduggery followed suit, noting with mild interest that once he got used to the extra circumference and weight on his fingers, it wouldn't be too different from his own skeletal hands. It might take him a couple of days, but he would get that dexterity back. It was his lack of muscle and pathetic stamina that was worrying him most, particularly if he and Rita were going to try again tonight.