For the same reason Skulduggery didn't press about the lion-shape, he didn't press about the reanimations. Different universes, indeed. He hadn't come across a single difference between their universes yet. Granted, this one really depended on one's definition of reanimations, but the basics were the same. Reflections in Skulduggery's universe couldn't use magic. Neither could zombies. Anything brought back by a Necromancer was... well, they could barely be considered human, let alone wield any sort of magic.
Skulduggery was different. The exception to the rule, as always. His mind, his consciousness, his very essence had come back intact. He'd never felt a particular inclination to follow any Necromancer's orders, which meant he wasn't a reanimation. He was still him. His own person.
That was what made Lord Vile so hard to understand.
Gabe wasn't exactly making himself any easier to understand, either. For a long moment, Skulduggery stared down at where Gabe had taken his hand on the table, making no effort whatsoever to break away from the contact. Maybe he thought Gabe's empathy would help relieve some of what he was feeling, but if that was the case, he was disappointed. Magic didn't work during the day.
"You know about Necromancy," he said slowly. "You recognised it the moment you laid eyes on it. But you didn't run, you didn't... fight." Not by any traditional definition of the word. "And this morning, you approached me, like I was just another acquaintance. Why are you helping me?"
Not why are you spending time and energy on me - although there was probably an element of that - but Skulduggery was more objectively interested in Gabe's motives. Standing his ground in the face of Vile? What was he used to back in his own world?
no subject
Skulduggery was different. The exception to the rule, as always. His mind, his consciousness, his very essence had come back intact. He'd never felt a particular inclination to follow any Necromancer's orders, which meant he wasn't a reanimation. He was still him. His own person.
That was what made Lord Vile so hard to understand.
Gabe wasn't exactly making himself any easier to understand, either. For a long moment, Skulduggery stared down at where Gabe had taken his hand on the table, making no effort whatsoever to break away from the contact. Maybe he thought Gabe's empathy would help relieve some of what he was feeling, but if that was the case, he was disappointed. Magic didn't work during the day.
"You know about Necromancy," he said slowly. "You recognised it the moment you laid eyes on it. But you didn't run, you didn't... fight." Not by any traditional definition of the word. "And this morning, you approached me, like I was just another acquaintance. Why are you helping me?"
Not why are you spending time and energy on me - although there was probably an element of that - but Skulduggery was more objectively interested in Gabe's motives. Standing his ground in the face of Vile? What was he used to back in his own world?