Russell was immediately calm, as if facing a piece of fine art, seriously holding the lipstick to his face.
"And if I say yes? Will you hand it over?"
His voice held a faint chuckle, though it sounded playful—slightly distorted by his mask.
"No. That lipstick is very expensive. I only use it on special occasions," Mary shook her head kindly.
"Not even to return the brooch?"
"Stealing something and returning it later is hardly praiseworthy," said Mary nonchalantly. "Moreover, climbing into a lady's bedroom window is usually considered harassment, not a greeting, Mr. Moriarty."
"That only proves the person who defined 'greeting' lacked imagination," Russell shrugged and slipped the lipstick into his pocket under her gaze.
"I said I won't give you the lipstick, you know?"
"I know."
"Then why so calmly put it in your pocket?"
"What does your refusal to give it have to do with me quietly taking it?" Russell replied with total confidence.
Mary's smile froze for a moment. How can a person be this shameless?
[Mary Morstan considers your shameless behavior utterly absurd. Malice Level +50.]
Well, I'm in a hurry, Russell chuckled.
"Seems Scotland Yard's famous thief lacks the most basic understanding of morality and law," Mary downed her tea in one gulp, driving the cold from her body. She entered fully and closed the door.
Click—the door locked, loud in the quiet room.
Russell made no move to run, standing in place and watching with lively interest as Mary approached.
Under his gaze, she stooped, picked up a cane from the table, spun it skillfully in her hands, and pointed its tip directly at him.
"If you'd like, I could teach you basic science. It might hurt a little, though."
Russell raised an eyebrow, glancing at the girl before him and then at her weapon.
Judging by her bearing, it was clear Mary was not just a pretty face. For those last couple moves, even he wouldn't dare claim he could pull them off without a solid two to three years of self-defense. But if she thought that would be intimidating, she underestimated the competition.
"Receiving personal instruction from the Lady of House Morstan—every noble debutante would die for such an opportunity," Russell said nonchalantly, dancing happily on Mary's minefield as if the cane wasn't pointed straight at his face.
"Will the beautiful and elegant Miss Mary Morstan teach me how to become someone like you? A social butterfly who charms everyone?" He added after a pause.
The room's air turned ice-cold as he finished. Mary's ambiguous smile vanished, replaced by an icy chill. A brewing storm lurked in those deep blue eyes. Her cane trembled in her hand, its tip nearing Russell's mask—cold enough for him to feel its metallic aura.
[Mary Morstan was furious at your provocative words! Malice Level +100.]
Here it comes… a big one!
Thrilled, Russell nevertheless wore a look of feigned innocence.
He crouched slightly, almost inviting her to strike through his mask.
"What's wrong, Miss Morstan? You don't look too happy. Did I say something bad?"
He lowered his voice, blending false innocence with provocation.
"Would apologizing make you feel better?"
"Apologize?" Mary repeated the word, but neither backed off nor attacked right away. Instead, she stared hard at him, as if trying to see his real face through the mask.
"If a simple apology were enough, what would be the point of Scotland Yard, Mr. Moriarty?"
"But women are always forgiving, aren't they?" Russell shrugged.
Each word dropped the temperature in Mary's gaze, while his own Malice Level ticked up.
[Mary Morstan has reached her limit. Malice Level +150.]
The bounty is still rising!
She stopped speaking. The room's air pressure dropped to an oppressive level.
And then—with no warning or extra wasted movement—her cane flashed like silver lightning, targeting the hand that still held the lipstick.
Fast! Relentless! Accurate!
The speed stunned Russell. Yet before she even moved, he heard the System alert: [Mary Morstan is about to attack you. Malice Level +100.]
Thanks to the prompt, he dodged just in time—otherwise, that hit would have hurt.
"An attack without warning—what happened to chivalry?" Russell called as he swerved away, still provoking her.
Why talk chivalry with a woman?
Mary's cane hissed through the air as her hands moved ceaselessly, but Russell always managed to dodge at the last instant.
"I get it now, Mr. Moriarty," her voice echoed coldly. "You're not lacking in common sense. You're not lacking in manners. You're lacking in—" (She did not finish.)
She suddenly shifted tactics, moved in close, and cut his escape with precise sweeps and thrusts of her cane, like a tightening net—the predator, and Russell the prey.
"Tch, you're really not holding back," he complained as he twisted, avoiding each strike by a hair—with a clown's awkward grace.
It was only thanks to the System's notifications.
[Mary Morstan aims for your left shoulder. Malice+20.]
[Mary Morstan attempts to sully your dignity. Malice+30.]
[Mary Morstan's patience is running out. Malice+50.]
Each alert was music to Russell's ears, and he even had time to study the room's layout for better escape angles.
Suddenly, another System beep.
[Mary Morstan intends to stab your kidney. Malice+150]
What? Playing for real now? Russell's pupils shrank.
Isn't this all a bit too much for a game?
…