There was a problem: Zechariah had contradictory desires. He wanted to send someone else to do his dirty work, but the most trustworthy person he could think of was not someone he wanted dirtied.

Zechariah pressed his index finger to his forehead, weighing his options. He supposed this ruffian had gotten this far in life strong-arming his way through it, though.

“I think you would be a better judge of how to better ring in your … friend’s new, but ill-informed wedding.”

Again, his hands returned laced behind his back.

“Of course, I would be grateful for any information you can find on them-…” right, he should clarify who ‘them’ was, just in case Mr. Benjamin did not also skulk around dreaming about how to fuck over the Wards, “-the Wards in general. Trouble, all of them.”