Del/Zadkiel
"Here. Let me." Zadkiel pulled a small knife from his trouser pocket, unfolding the blade. He applied it to the underside of the chair, scraping carefully to avoid causing more damage than was necessary. He shuddered at the noise of it, and was relieved when whatever it was came free. "It's just a black speck of some sort," he said. "It must have been stuck there when they painted the thing."