"Would you care to enlighten me, once more, as to why we're trailing the back streets of London in this dismal weather and coarse clothing that I believe to be inciting some rash along my right arm?" Elijah asked, the line of inquiry drawing a sigh from me. Did I ever love the boy's brain, there was no shadow of a doubt about that, but sometimes I questioned my life choices on interests.

I stand from my hunched over position and turn around, allowing my attention to fall over the young lord of high society, eyes wracking over every inch of him. Dirty blonde locks he usually kept well-groomed and slicked back from his features now hang in his face, a roguish look I dare admit to liking. While the bisque tone of his skin gives way that he's from higher living, he holds the defined jaw structure of a well-working man. Small bits of stubble are visible in the low lighting, creating a shadow along his jawline. I hadn't let him shave it this morning, knowing full well it would aid in our disguises, though I should have known nothing could hide the obnoxious and stuck-up quality of air around him.

How does that old saying go? You can take the man from nobility, but not the nobility from the man?

"Because, kind sir," his lips twitch at the words, "I have a case to solve." I spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it were preposterous there could be any other reason. As if I weren't prowling the back streets of the slum I called home a few simple weeks ago.

Elijah lifts a slightly darker brow at the response. It's a slight movement, but one my keen eyes catch. His sapphire irises glimmer from beneath the brown contact lenses, the deep blue strong enough to shimmer through if one were close enough to inspect. The look sends minute, prickling sensations down my lower back, a heat fanning across my ashy flesh.

"Ah, and there you have it, kind mademoiselle. Your case, not our case." He takes one tantalizing step closer, his heat a welcome distraction from the putrid, damp weather. My fingers twitch at my sides and I allow my eyes a quick scan of the filthy alleyway, attempting to distract my mind from other thoughts.

Rubbish bins sit along brick walls, some toppled over, their questionable contents strewn about on the damp pavement below. Metal snakes up the sides of buildings, rust devouring the filthy meal, batches of shimmering silver glinting in the dim light. Dark — what I hope to be — oil stains splatter the ground and walls. My nose twitches and I breathe in the scents wrapped around me; damp air, bodily discharge, rotten food.

My eyes stick on a piece of garbage and I almost gag on whatever foul thing has been tossed out, but my line of thoughts quickly divert back to the fine thoroughbred — though I feel my own definitions are sometimes skewed — standing before me.

We're the sole inhabitants of this alley, a dangerous and utterly exciting notion. My heart thrums in my chest as that understanding settles over my thoughts. I gaze over his fine features, searching out his eyes, a pang of regret striking a chord in me when I land on muddy brown instead of the deep blue I admire.

"You're right, Mr. Alcock," I said as I reach up, fiddling with the goggles slung around my neck. The cool titanium a welcome distraction, settling my thumping heart to a much more favorable pace. My calloused fingers — a feature even noble living couldn't pry from my being — grazes the cool metal, taking solace in it. In them. I don't look to Elijah again until they're secured to my face, the damp and shadowed alley lighting up in a deep green. Tiny words connected by lines to whatever they described appear before my eyes. "It is my case and you certainly haven't any part of it." I turn from him and make for an interesting piece of garbage strewn on the ground. It's a well-used and discarded tissue, clear signs of some fluid on it.

I reach into the side pocket attached to my leathern belt, pulling out a pair of bronze forceps before pinching the tissue between them. Multiple lines and words shoot out from either side of it and I scan over each of them, nothing seeming out of the ordinary.

"Then why, pray tell, Miss Poyntz, am I here? While I do ever so much love your company and these little... adventures we find ourselves privy to, I do much more prefer private ones. Maybe in the bedchambers, out of wet and chilled weather, exchanging it for a rather warm and cozy fire." His tone shows the grin he no doubt wears and my cheeks warm at the thought. Despite either of our understandings on societal positions, we seem to be unable to restrain our back-and-forth banter and flirtations.

My mouth opens, retort about just where exactly he could be in relation to that fireplace poised on the tip of my tongue when a singular word catches my attention. I glance over my shoulder, a smile broadening my chapped lips.

"Because, while you can be mind numbingly infuriating, I would be daft to doubt your intellectual ability in solving riddles, and other minor details, on matters I might otherwise overlook. Case in point, your lordship." I turn as I stand, holding out the used tissue dangling from my forceps, the bronze glinting in the lighting. Elijah's upper lip curls, an obvious show of his distaste, though it doesn't stop him from holding himself ever so high on his pedestal from my acknowledgment and praise. If nothing else, living in the Alcock residence has taught me the best way to a noble's command is by stroking his already inflated ego.

"Well, you're right about that," his grin turns to a self-satisfied smirk, and he takes that final step forward, this time no hesitation in his movements as he reached out, capturing a strand of bronzed hair that had managed itself loose from my ponytail. "I imagine my brain isn't the only thing about me that could be of interest?" The vocal cords reached a deeper, breathier level as he inquired, setting the intestines in my body to coil around one another.

I returned his smirk. "Of course not, though any other qualities would have you in my laboratory prepped for experiments of my newest gadgets."

"Sounds exciting. Do lead the way." he whispered, his usual arrogant tones turning intimate. My toes curled in my leathern boots and I'm thankful that my goggles hid my eyes or else I fear my desire might be shown. I may be good at masking emotions when the time counts, but I'm no wizard in the art. I angle my body away from Elijah, forcing him to release the strand.

"As tempting as the offer sounds, Mr. Alcock, we'll have to postpone the matter. Tell me," my playful tone turns serious as I return to the matter at hand. "What diseases coincide with the drug corticosteroids?"

Elijah lifts a brow at my question, arms coming to cross his chest. His eyes take on a faraway, concentrated look, focusing on the tissue. It's one I recognize well from our past few months of association. I picture how his brain works, sorting through every possibility, eliminating every dead end.

"Care to enlighten me to the details of your case?" he questioned, all flirtations gone replaced with the objective and clinical one I'm sure he uses in his medical studies.

"A missing person. Her name is Benzie Colliner. Thirteen. She was taken from her home a week ago, though her elder brother only sought help recently as she has a habit of running off. He informed me she always returns after a couple days, though, so something must be askew." I glance to Elijah, his fingers now grazing his chin.

"Corticosteroids is a strong medication, used as an anti-inflammatory drug. Was she sick at all?" I shake my head. "Then, perhaps her captor, whoever they may be, is." He points to the tissue. "This drug isn't one easily acquired by lower class. It has to be someone with at least a title of lord."

My eyes scan the dirty clue, excitement bubbling to the surface. I'm unable to hide it as I bounce from one foot to the next.

"Perfect! This is exactly the lead we needed to put us in the right direction." Words fell from my mouth at an extraordinary speed. "With this we can..." I pulled the googles down, allowing them to rest at my neck as I looked to Elijah who was already watching me, his expression tender, smile no longer haughty. My throat closed up, the sentence I'd been speaking falling away. The look is one I've scarcely seen him wear. One of vulnerability. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hating the flighty emotions crawling under my skin.

A longing and emotion I believe to be shown in my own expression flashes over Elijah's. His jaw clenched and out of the corner of my eye I catch his hand lift. The fine hairs on my flesh stand on end as every nerve ending ignited under the skin. His hand hovered just above the surface of my cheek. A million reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea must course through both our thoughts, traveling between our gazes like a never-ending war.

I am not an ace-high lady. He is an ace-high lord. A fiancé is already waiting for him. A laboratory is already waiting for me. His parents despise the notion of us. I have no parents. He is a well-bred heir. I am well-bred mutt. Society adores him while, even on the finest of days, they tolerate me. Either of us could come to a horrible demise by such an association. Him by society, and me by hanging.

My throat closed up on the last reason and, out of a show of considerable restraint, I force my body to take a step back from the dashing lord disguised as a commoner. A piece of my heart stays in place, standing before him, and I can see the same thing happen with Elijah. I smile past the pain in my chest, the prickles and heat that had been fanning over my skin gone, the coals that had ignited it dead and never to be lit again. I would not allow it.

"G-good work, Mr. A-Alcock." I cringe at the stutter in my voice. "Guess those medical classes are paying off." I pull out a small black leathern bag, placing the tissue within its confines before pulling the drawstring closed. "There aren't many lords in our division of the city, of course they could be from any division. Even if this is the case, the list is now exceptionally shorter than it was a few moments ago." As I walk past him, down the alley I nudge his shoulder. "Unless there's something, or someone, you care to enlighten me about. Possibly stored in your basement, your lordship?"

Elijah chuckled, an enticing, deep sound that had me craving more. I steer my thoughts in another direction, fastening my restraint well in place with the best gadgets imaginable.

"The only thing hidden in my basement is your laboratory, which, may I add, is impossible to navigate. The maids have been complaining about even their inability to clean it with everything strewn about."

I snort. "It's a real travesty none of you know the intellectual mindset needed to work down there."

"Oh, I'm well aware of the mindset. It's one of a madwoman, driven by her love for gadgets and problem solving." He said and under his breath, I swear I heard him mutter, "And maybe even for an ace-high lord."

I don't allow myself a response, neither trusting my voice nor the words that might be chosen. Instead, silence falls over us, comfortable and well enough as we set forth on our case.