Zechariah, unusually, pulled his chair out for him. Pulled it out and guided him between the shoulders to it. Still, he was silent. He had no idea who Ruby was, but he was guessing one of the many candidates for a wedding ring his dear Not-Richard teased him with the prospect of locking himself up with.

Not unlike how Zechariah was grudgingly planning to do with a literal prostitute. He was not married yet, though – no vows had been spoken, and he had hoped to take full advantage of that before any glasses were broken.