Not too lonely. Skulduggery politely neglected to mention that she'd been on her own for days before he went to see her, even if Raine was stubbornly denying her true feelings with regards to how impressive the skeleton detective was.

Wreath's ignorance of Skulduggery's false face, on the other hand, hurt. That was strange. Typically, feeling anything that wasn't anger was strange, but the effect compounded after spending so long unable to do anything but suppress irritation, rage, and regular violent urges. It made Skulduggery feel strangely empty. It was ridiculous, and he cut those feelings off before they had a chance to take root.

Then he stopped, a few feet past the kitchen doorway. Withdrew the false face. Brought it up again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Five times, Skulduggery brought up a freshly randomised magical face to hide his skull, and each time the face was frowning a little more than before.