His and Hers

Chapter 3: Two Can Tango

The Prof didn't have any means of realizing that he was going through the motions until after he found himself standing in front of their suite's large wooden door, complete with brass numbers indicating the room 2011. Right, they had gone through the concierge, with Lucy doing most of the talking because his mouth clearly had lost the ability to speak. The lift ride, quiet silence as she snuggled against him--truly playing the part no less--and now he was here. He couldn't even object as Lucy swiped the key card in, the one he also had in his back pocket--was he truly that disengaged--and lead him into the beautiful room.

Saying that it was beautiful would have been an understatement.

The Prof was hardly a material man, but even he couldn't deny the beautiful cream walls adorned with copies of famous artworks, along with the deep-set emerald carpet that covered the whole floor, save for the bathroom. The lights were off, with the only grace of light coming from the windows that were framed with burgundy drapes. The room was large enough to have two armchairs that the Prof was sure one could sink into, with usual accouterments required for hot beverages and a large glass coffee table. The bed was set with beautiful cream coloured covers with plenty of pillows that one could probably sink into, similarly to the armchairs.

Their bed. The bed that they were going to share in the night. For two nights.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Au contraire, fake. We are both thinking of the same thing. Don't sell yourself like the mighty one here."

"I thought you said I was a part of this one person? Still calling me fake?"

"I can call you whatever I like."

"I've never seen summat so..." Lucy murmured as she closed the door behind them, finally releasing him from her hand. The cold enveloped where her hand was, causing him to frown.

"I do think your previous comment about it being beautiful truly is present in the room." The Prof moved forward, sitting in the armchair and closed his eyes for a moment. He was right--he immediately sank in slightly. Oh, he could sleep in this. It was worth the crick in the neck if it meant relaxing in such comfort. His countenance was broken by his Detective Constable, who was giggling at the sight.

"If it means you sleep well, Prof, I'd steal this armchair for the Mystery Room!" Lucy giggled, "I wonder how the Yard was able to afford summat like this. There's no way that this would be a part of either of our paychecks, by all means!"

"I guarantee you that the Commissioner most likely had something to do with this. His implications that MI5 called upon us weren't remiss to me; he definitely called in some sort of favor or something of equal sort." The Prof deduced, humming as Lucy started to unpack, "You don't need to do that now."

"Aye, but I just need to put this in first. I think the rest of my clothing will be alright, but this is the one thing I can't have wrinkled any longer!" From his angle, he couldn't quite see exactly what she was taking out, as it was covered in plastic. Though, from what he could see, the strap was emerald like the carpet and the fabric looked more expensive than anything he had ever seen her wear. He was about to open his mouth to an objection, but remembered that he himself brought his own type of formal wear from reading what was asked of them, but Lucy was already to it. She picked up the suit carrier he had forgotten, unzipping it and sticking the suit within the wardrobe.

"What did you bring?" He asked, standing up and coming close to her. She turned, winking to him without any explanation. He faltered, frowning at her. For all the boldness she typically extruded in the Mystery Room and how she followed her instinct rather than logic, she was never like that to him. There was nobody around them--was she still faking?