"No," Saracen said the moment he processed Erskine's accusing look. That was all he could really find the words for -- defending himself. How pathetic. But he hadn't known about this, and moreover he didn't want to know about this, because that would mean erasing some of the fragile amicable truce he and Erskine had. It would mean coming into the Hotel carefully and treating Ghastly like he was made of glass. It would mean --

Then Ghastly strode over and Saracen nearly jumped back out of habit. He physically jumped back out of arm's reach to stop himself from doing it, in fact. Anton was there, Anton was in the way. Erskine wasn't going to get hurt. Ghastly might, but somehow Saracen didn't see this unfolding any other way. He'd tried to change the Dead Men's path before, and it had always blown up in his face.

"Ghastly," he blurted, and then hesitated. Ghastly. The memory of the Sanctuary footage crossed his mind, and with a mental discipline borne of magic Saracen blocked it out. "I'm going to hug you," he informed the other man, "once I'm sure I'm not going to get punched for the trouble."