As a skeleton, Skulduggery is particularly adept at reading even the blankest of faces, and yet up until now, Max has been something of a mystery to him. Always neutral or somewhat skeptical, fairly poised even while they dealt with Scoops' extra flavors, and while not unruffleable, certainly hard to flap at the very least.

That no longer feels like the case.

"Ah," Skulduggery says, voice as grim as the grave, "Bad luck, that." But maybe there's something else, something a little glib when he remarks, "At least it looks to be your size."

It takes everything in him to not bust into 206 pieces from laughing, but somehow he manages it. Somehow.