As luck would have it, one of the seats in the lounge that predated his stay and God knew what else had... well, given up. Given up when he had sunken into it after a heated letter exchange with some literary buffoon from York. His letter hardly deserved an answer, and Zechariah had been ready to let him know just that!

… and then he fell straight through to the floor. Damn the couch, and damn Literary Buffoon, too!

The butler was the one to answer the door, with a carefully neutral face that totally didn’t say “I broke it first and propped it up with bricks”.