"I was just trying to keep things together, seeing as Bespoke had already interrupted my retirement," Corrival muttered, taking a swig from his glass. "Less for Skulduggery to have to focus on, until things ... settle." Until Corrival can adjust, until he can be sure Skulduggery was well in hand, until he knew no one else knew--or should. There was too much at stake, for Ireland and for the Dead Men, for Corrival to have just gone back to his armchair.

He motioned with a hand toward the closed door. "Next thing I know Geoffrey Scrutinous comes to me on behalf of himself and 'a few others' to let me know that when the issue comes up, I've got their nomination. Which is exactly what I didn't want."

His tone would have been irritable, if it weren't just tired. It wasn't even all a physical tiredness; a good part of it was mental too. It was something he wouldn't have shown to anyone but a Dead Man.

Corrival snorted and took another mouthful. "I'll send a receipt to Guild in prison."