[Skulduggery's been watching Kratos while they haltingly communicate. So far, the man's been strangely difficult to read. It's not that he doesn't have facial expressions, because he does -- albeit rarely. He'd smiled at the carolers. It's more that he has expressions, and... that's it. No tics, no fluidity, no chaos of even a minor nature. It's like he lets the experience of one emotion end before he has another one.

Because of that, all Skulduggery sees is the smile, and afterwards, nothing. There's no in-between, no hints as to what the smile means or what it's connected to.

The frown is the first time Skulduggery gets an inkling of anything deeper beneath the surface, and even then, he can't be sure. Fear? No, that's not right. Anger? No. Irritation? That's a little closer.]

Angel.

[He's frowning in return, but with curiosity.]

You don't like angels?

[For a single dizzying second Skulduggery's forcibly reminded of the Faceless Ones and their aspirations to godhood. But he's never met one who looked even remotely like an angel -- and unfortunately he's met quite a few of them.

He looks at the top of the tree, then back at Kratos.] Maybe you've had bad experiences with angels. [This is mostly muttered to himself.] You don't look like you're scared of them, though. You look more like someone's brought up an annoying acquaintance you don't like. [Head tilt.] Do you know angels?

[There's something there, something that makes sense, but Skulduggery can't quite put his finger on it. Talking out loud sometimes helps.]