That would depend on Gabe's definition of 'injured.' Skulduggery certainly felt injured, thrust unceremoniously into a body he could barely remember how to control or maintain and forced to experience nothing but unpleasant sensations ever since. "There were lingering effects," he explained. "Nothing physical. Some mental, some... really just bizarre." There hadn't been anything yet today, but Skulduggery was eyeing the sausage with suspicion anyway. "I'd be wary of the Sun Room at night, if I were you."

It was a good thing Skulduggery didn't remember how food tasted, or he didn't think he'd be able to ignore the hunger.

"Did that something resemble a butterfly?" Skulduggery followed Gabe's look, but he didn't see anyone he would immediately peg as the man's brother, or of having been through extensive surgery. There was a man in a wheelchair, but there were more than a few of those rolling around. "How did you manage a full operation without any equipment?" Painfully, the detective imagined.