"Oh." While this was inconvenient, as it meant she was still here when she otherwise might have already left, it was hardly a proper catastrophe. "It does that sometimes. You just have to —" Morgan started to explain but realized it would probably be more efficient to just do it himself. The door had started sticking on occasion about five years ago, when a slight magical mishap in the garden had resulted in one corner of the house becoming crooked. They'd had it fixed — mostly — but sometimes in the course of normal house settling the doors or windows in this room and the one next to it would become a little difficult to open to close. He hurried to put his pants on and stood up. He didn't bother retrieving his belt from the table or smoothing out his rumpled clothing at all, because he was still planning on going right back to stain removal as soon as he'd managed to get the debutante out of the room. He didn't need to look sharp to fix a door.

"Here, move. I'll do it," he offered, and didn't wait for her to reply before he moved past her to the door. Usually it popped open if one pulled the handle up a bit while pulling, so he tried that, but to no avail. It was well and truly stuck this time. Morgan frowned at it, as though the door had done this on purpose after plotting against him. He tried the same maneuver again, but harder, and still nothing. "Okay, stand back," he told the woman, though he didn't give her much time to react and he didn't look to see if she was clear before he tried again. He braced his shoulder against the door to push it up against the door jam, then pulled back as forcefully as he could. The door swung open, and at the sudden lack of resistance Morgan lost his balance and fell backwards into the room with an oof.

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