Regular

Drumknott looked around the office and focused on the slab where the little stone armies were endlessly in combat. “Ah, I see you have won, my lord,” he said.
“Yes, I must make a note of the gambit.”
“But Mr. Gilt, I notice, is not here…”
Vetinari sighed. “You have to admire a man who really believes in freedom of choice,” he said, looking at the open doorway. “Sadly, he did not believe in angels.”


Terry Pratchett, Going Postal