With an almighty crash Tacit kicked the front door from its hinges and bounded into the room after it. The watchmaker had only time to raise his hands in front of his face before his wasted shrunken body was lifted from his chair and thrown across the room. He cartwheeled over a table and went down with a groan, smashing glass and crockery as he fell. “Please,” he muttered, as large heavy hands took hold of him again and threw him onto and over his desk, knocking the timepiece from the felt, the delicate glass casing and internal workings shattering like stardust across the hard tiled floor.
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This whole passage is fucking ludicrous.
