Samael paid her no attention, turning that blazing blue gaze down to Fastitocalon’s face. He bent closer and cupped one hand to the slack grey cheek. “Oh, Fass,” he said, again so terribly gently. “Fass, why didn’t you tell me you were this ill, why didn’t you come home and let us renovate you properly, you stubborn old reprobate, why did you let things get this bad? It’s enough to make me go all fucking despondent.”
