It almost worked. It would have, if Skulduggery didn't launch himself backwards to avoid the lunge, deciding that a fall down the stairs was less likely to affect him than even a single drop of paint on one of the last custom-tailored suits he had left.

It still hurt like the devil.

He rolled and came back up as smoothly as he could manage, snatched up his hat, stumbled once through the pain, determined nothing was broken, and dusted himself off - in that order. "Worked through your rage yet?" he asked cheerfully, almost mockingly, up the stairs.