Marcus laughs: he doesn't know whether Midnighter meant to make a Biblical reference there. Probably not. Businesslike, he pats down a few more strips of sticking plaster across the cuts on his cheek and jaw, and then he leans in and kisses his forehead.

"Well. I was thinking about telling you off for it," he admits. "It's amazing what a bit of metal will put in perspective, huh?" He shrugs, and, defiant and with determined effort, he says, "Life's short. I liked the damn picture."

He holds out his hands. "C'mon. Come up. I'd pick you up, but, you know. Wanna leave you a bit of your pride."