Russell was in an excellent mood. He even started taking the initiative to make conversation.
"By the way, Miss Morstan—what do you usually like to eat? I'm not familiar with the cafeteria yet. Any recommendations?"
"Mr. Watson, your attentiveness is… unexpectedly flattering."
Mary looked mildly surprised and genuinely puzzled, yet her smile and manners remained impeccable.
"A knowledgeable, beautiful, and elegant classmate takes the initiative to invite me—naturally I should show sufficient respect."
Russell answered with perfect seriousness, each adjective delivered as if he meant it from the bottom of his heart.
[The surrounding crowd feels chilled by your shameless flattery — Malice +5]
"Is that so?" Mary raised a brow noncommittally. "Somehow, I think you've discovered a new kind of amusement."
"Walking beside Miss Morstan is, in itself, a kind of amusement," Russell continued without even blinking.
"..."
Mary fell silent—rare for her.
She realized, with an irritation that was new and oddly stimulating, that her proud ability to read people kept malfunctioning on this man.
When he should retreat, he advances; when he should advance, he retreats. His behavioral pattern had no consistent logic, like fog that ordinary methods couldn't pierce.
She'd thought she'd caught his "soft spot" in the classroom with that little probe about distance.
And now he was glued right back on as if nothing had happened.
That lack of control made her feel an unfamiliar, prickly curiosity.
[Mary Morstan's competitive streak is reignited — Malice +15]
Hearing the pleasant chime in his head, Russell's smile deepened.
Under countless envious, jealous, and curious gazes, the two of them walked into the grand cafeteria.
Imperial College's dining hall wasn't as luxurious as Russell had imagined—honestly, it felt less "high-end" than the cafeteria from his previous university life.
But given the era, it was already impressive: soaring ceilings, long wooden tables polished to a shine, air rich with buttered bread and stewed meat. Students in neat uniforms gathered in pairs and trios, their conversations softened by the sheer size of the room.
"What would you like?" Mary picked up a tray with practiced ease, scanning the options as gracefully as if she were attending a palace banquet.
"Anything is fine." Russell followed behind like a dutiful escort, while in truth enjoying the steady tick of numbers on his system panel.
[Felix Green finds your shadowing Mary disgraceful — Malice +5]
[Annie Brown is angry that you're monopolizing Miss Morstan — Malice +5]
Wonderful.
He loved this atmosphere.
No tedious pleasantries, no social niceties—just clean, concentrated hostility.
Russell reflected silently, his smile growing even more benign.
"If that's the case," Mary said, apparently accustomed to being watched, "I've heard the Wellington steak here is quite good. You should try it—don't worry, it's my treat."
Her tone was casual, but her blue eyes were quietly studying his reaction.
"Then I must," Russell nodded and calmly used the tongs to take a portion.
"And as a return gesture—dessert is on me?"
His effortless willingness to accept the closeness made Mary pause.
She'd expected him—given his earlier tendency to dodge—to refuse politely.
What, exactly, was he planning now?
They found a seat by the window. Soft afternoon sunlight warmed the tabletop. The stares around them still pricked, but Russell had reached the point where he could not only tolerate it—he could enjoy it.
This meal was worth it.
He cut into the steak and tasted it. Tender, juicy, unexpectedly good.
"How is it?" Mary lifted her water glass, taking a small sip with a composure that was almost unfair.
"Surprisingly excellent," Russell admitted. "I assumed school cafeterias were always disasters."
"Imperial College isn't quite so cruel to its students," Mary smiled faintly, seemingly pleased by his reaction.
"Speaking of which…" Russell chewed as if casually. "Miss Morstan, you seem unusually comfortable with investigations."
"Hmm?" Mary set down her glass and raised a brow. "What makes you say that?"
"This morning's case," Russell said earnestly. "That 'martyrdom' theory—honestly, it was brilliant.
I talked with Charlotte all night and she never even considered that angle."
"I already told you—it was idle speculation. It doesn't mean anything," Mary replied with her perfect smile intact.
"But rather than my 'idle speculation,' I'm curious—Mr. Watson, how do you plan to tell Miss Holmes?"
"Straightforwardly," Russell shrugged. "What else?
I'll say I dreamed it, and an angel told me."
"An angel?" Mary repeated, lips curving. "I don't recall having such a title."
"I never said the angel was you," Russell shot back evenly.
What kind of angel tries to spear someone in the kidneys with a cane?
Mary laughed softly, choosing not to press it.
They finished lunch with an oddly smooth rhythm.
"Then, as promised—dessert is on me." Russell set down his utensils and stood. "What would you like?"
"Hmm… tiramisu?"
"Done."
Russell headed to the dessert counter, feeling as if his steps had gained actual buoyancy.
[Tom Hopkins is jealous — Malice +5]
[Isabella White resents you — Malice +10]
Ah. This disgusting, delightful air.
A single lunch and the malice value climbs.
This was far easier than stealing.
Would being a thief of hearts have more long-term upside than being a phantom thief?
The thought surfaced uninvited.
And the best part was, you didn't even have to worry about being caught.
Russell returned carrying two neat portions of tiramisu and slid one toward Mary with a practiced, light touch.
"Please."
"Thank you."
Mary picked up the small silver spoon, but didn't eat immediately.
Instead, those blue eyes rested on Russell—quiet, steady—like she was trying to peel away the "model gentleman" mask and see what else lived underneath.
"Mr. Watson," she said at last, voice gentle, "you remind me of an animal."
"Hm?" Russell paused mid-spoonful. "Which animal?"
"Chameleon."
-------
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