"It's either here, or lurking in some abandoned bar surrounded by ghosts." Skulduggery's tone telegraphs just how he feels about that choice - that is to say, not great. "At least there are plenty of people around to make for good entertainment."

He shifts in his seat like he sat wrong, and decides that for his own comfort, he's going to have to play his mischievous hand.

"Hold on," he says, pulling open his jacket so that he can withdraw the gift-wrapped bundle that's been pushed up against where his nonexistent intestines would be. He's relieved to drop it on the table, like a floppy little rectangle. "There," he sighs. "Lucky for me, I'm thin enough not to ruin my silhouette with random packages."