Still wearing his tophat from earlier, he tipped it to Simon and used his thumb as a makeshift bookmark.

“Quite, thank you!”

The cook had not even finished preparing it yet, and there was the smell of breaded fish heavy in the air.

There were two other wicker chairs by the table, and Zechariah nodded slightly to the one beside him – subtly enough that it could be ignored as a stretch of the neck. There was a flicker of uncertainty across his face.