The wine was unpleasant, but the schadenfreude made up for it. He managed to just look thoughtful as he tipped his inferior wine to his lips, took a lighter sip and drank in the sweet, sweet sight of Darius Carrington’s impending meltdown.

“Oh, that sounds terrible,” he breathed, hardly bothering to hide his delight. “Clearly, you are crushed under your … responsibilities.”

This time when he finished the glass, Zechariah bothered not pouring from the bottle when he took a swig.

“Have you tried an embarrassing art exhibit?” Zechariah said with a sly look. “Then they shall have to acknowledge you.”