“You send home daily summaries?”
“I’d report hourly, if there was anything useful to relay.”
Hourly. Stephen could not fathom communicating that frequently with other human beings. “Are your missions always like this?”
“Not at all. Usually I undertake cases alongside my siblings.” She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “This time, it’s you and me.”
He nodded in comprehension. Miss Wynchester hadn’t simply barged into his territory uninvited. She hadn’t expected to find Stephen here, either. And now they were both saddled with each other, for better or for worse.
For the first time in possiblyever, Stephen was part of a team. It had never happened before, for a variety of reasons. His preference for solitude, other people’s preference for… anything but Stephen.
The arrangement hadn’t bothered him because he kept his life too full to have space for anyone else. If anything, he had dedicated a fair bit of his energy to keeping people out at all costs. Miss Wynchester had forced her way in.
To his surprise, he kind of liked her there.
One could argue that their initial impressions of the other had not been under ideal circumstances. But from the very first, Miss Wynchester had beheld Stephen at full tinker, and accepted him that way without hesitation. By word or gesture, she had given no indication of perceiving his idiosyncrasies as flaws. Her only questions had been how she could best navigate the world he’d created, rather than insist he become someone other than the person he was.
Maybe because she, too, knew what it was like not to fit others’ expectations. She’d certainly defied all of his, in the best possible ways.
There was no choice but to accept the beautiful berserker as a new variable in the formula of his life. The equation had changed, if temporarily. For a short while, it would be two against the world.
“It’s late,” he said as the last of the plates had cleared. “I’ll leave you to relax in your quarters.”
“What are you going to do?”
Think about her. Polish his monocle. Take a cold bath.
“Reset my machines,” he answered. “I’m working on a new one up on the roof.”
“A murder machine?” she asked eagerly.
“Not all my machines are murder machines.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
He could not help but smile. Stephen invented systems to keep boredom at bay, but since Miss Wynchester’s arrival, he had not been bored once.
“If you ask me nicely, there’s a 0.8912 probability that I might turn my rooftop device into a murder machine just for you.”
“That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. If you did so, I would swoon on the spot.” She gave a happy sigh. “I love percentages. I’m at fifty-five at the moment.”
He waited.
That appeared to be the end of the explanation.
“Fifty-five what?” he asked politely.
“Fifty-five percent Elizabeth,” she answered as she rose to her feet.
He joined her. “What does that mean? Aren’t you always one hundred percent Elizabeth?”
“The percentages are an agility thermometer. It measures current capabilities compared to maximum strength.”
“What were you this morning, when you attacked the castle with battle-axes?”
“Sixty-five and falling.”
“‘Beth the Berserker’ is Elizabeth Wynchester at sixty-five percent power?” he said in disbelief. “What must you be like at full capacity?”
