Feeling in high spirits, Russell initiated the conversation himself.
"By the way, Miss Morstan, what do you usually like to eat? I'm not very familiar with the choices at the school cafeteria—do you have any recommendations?"
"Mr. Watson, I'm very moved by your consideration."
Mary seemed both a little surprised and confused, but still maintained the perfect smile and demeanor.
"Having such a knowledgeable, beautiful, and elegant classmate take the initiative, I must of course show her the proper respect," Russell replied earnestly, each adjective sincerely meant.
[Your shameless flattery chills the crowd around you. Malice +5.]
"Is that so?" Mary raised her brows in a vague expression. "It seems you've found a new source of amusement, Mr. Watson."
"Walking with Lady Morstan is a delight in itself." Russell replied, unfazed.
"…"
Mary, uncharacteristically, was left speechless.
She realized that her greatest pride—her insight into people—somehow completely failed with this man. His behavior was unpredictable, shrouded in a mist that normal cues couldn't cut through.
She thought her probing question earlier about distancing in the classroom had already exposed his weakness.
But now, he was following her around as if nothing had happened.
This sense of not being in control made her oddly uneasy.
[Mary Morstan's competitive spirit reignites—her malice rises by 15.]
Russell smiled even wider, enjoying the fun pop-up notifications in his head.
Basking in countless stares—envy, jealousy, curiosity—the two entered the lavish cafeteria.
Imperial College London's cafeteria was not quite as grand as he had imagined; perhaps not as posh as cafes he'd frequented during university days.
Still, considering the era's limitations, it was quite impressive for the most prestigious university in London.
High domed ceilings, gleaming wooden tables, and the aroma of buttery bread and stew hung in the air.
Well-groomed students bunched in twos and threes, but thanks to the spacious setting, the buzz of conversation never rose to become a clamor.
"What would you like?" Mary asked, moving with royal elegance, scanning the tempting spread as if attending a court banquet, skillfully reaching for a plate.
"Anything's fine," Russell replied, trailing behind her like a loyal bodyguard, secretly enjoying the ever-changing numbers on his system panel.
[Felix Green is disgusted by the way you stick behind Mary; Malice +5.]
[Anne Brown is furious at you monopolizing Miss Mary; Malice +5.]
Wonderful.
He was growing fond of this atmosphere.
There was no pretense of polite social interaction here; only pure aggression existed between these parties.
Russell silently sighed, his smile only growing warmer.
"In that case," Mary continued, clearly comfortable with this kind of attention, "I hear their Wellington steak is quite good. Why don't you give it a try? Don't worry—I'll treat you."
Though casual, her tone was observant, her blue eyes studying Russell's reaction.
"Alright. I'll give it a shot," Russell nodded, using tongs to pick up a piece himself.
"In return, how about I treat you to dessert?"
His opportunistic attitude took Mary off guard. Judging by his normally aloof nature, she expected him to find an excuse to avoid even a hint of intimacy.
What exactly was this man up to?
The two found a seat by the window. Gentle afternoon sunlight spilled across the table. The stares from those around them still pricked at his back, but Russell could now appreciate, even enjoy, their envy-induced glares.
This meal was worth every bit.
He cut a slice of steak and popped it into his mouth. The meat was tender, juicy—tastier than he'd expected.
"How is it?" Mary took a sip of water, her posture captivating.
"Surprisingly good! I always thought school cafeterias were notorious for awful food," Russell enthused.
Imperial College ought to be proud of the meals they serve their students.
Mary smiled faintly, clearly pleased with his reaction.
"By the way," Russell remarked casually as he chewed, "Miss Morstan, you really have a talent for solving cases, don't you?"
He decided to nudge the conversation in a direction he was interested in.
"Hmm?" Mary put down her glass, raising her eyebrows. "How did you know?"
"This morning's case," Russell intoned gravely. "Your hypothesis—martyrdom—it's a brilliant idea. I spent the night talking to Charlotte, and she hadn't even considered that possibility."
"As I said before, it was just an offhand remark. Don't take it so seriously." Mary's smile never faltered.
"Anyway, instead of wild theories, Mr. Watson, how do you plan to tell Ms. Holmes about this?"
"I'll just say it directly. What else can I do?" Russell shrugged.
"Maybe say I dreamed an angel came to tell me the truth?"
"Angel?" Mary repeated, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
"I don't remember that being one of my titles."
"I didn't say it was you." Russell shot back, poker-faced. What kind of angel stabs people in the kidney with a cane?
Mary just laughed, dropping the subject.
The two finished their meal in a relaxed, comfortable mood.
"Alright, as promised, I'll get dessert," Russell said as he wiped his hands and stood.
"What would you like?"
"Hmm...Tiramisu?"
"No problem."
Russell stood and, feeling his steps lightening, walked over to the dessert counter.
[Tom Hopkins's jealousy: Malice +5]
[Isabella White's resentment: Malice +10]
Ah, such a sweet atmosphere.
Eating meals in public racks up far more malice points than thievery ever did.
Maybe being a heart-thief was a better choice than ghost-thiefing—at least you didn't risk being caught.
He returned to the table carrying two delicate plates of tiramisu, gently sliding one Mary's way.
"Please enjoy."
"Thank you."
Mary took up the tiny silver spoon, but for a moment, she didn't taste it. Her blue eyes stared intently at Russell, as if searching for something beneath the standard "gentleman mask" he wore.
"Mr. Watson," she suddenly said softly. "You remind me of an animal."
"Hmm?" Russell paused, tiramisu halfway to his mouth.
"What animal?"
"A chameleon."
…