He took Darius’ hand – slowly, suspiciously – before finally accepting it and raising from one knee off the ground. He squeezed his hand firmly, and his eyes glittered with something mischievous.

Oh! He would always want something from him.

“Zechariah Mire, Esquire.”

Chris always called him Zack, and it might have been in part to that sound in the middle that did not occur in a whole lot of popular languages. (Or it might have just been because he was a dick.)

Immediately after taking his hand back, Zechariah brushed off his front like the vain creature he was.