The full group reassembled at breakfast on the first morning of the new term, and it took Elsie exactly four minutes to notice that something had fundamentally changed about two of their number.
ELS: Corin smiled at me.
She said it in the particular hushed, scandalized whisper reserved for genuinely alarming news, and Arthur, following her gaze across the refectory, found Corin seated with Talon, engaged in what appeared to be an entirely ordinary conversation, wearing an expression that was, admittedly, considerably less rigid than his usual composed neutrality.
ART: He smiled at you?
ELS: When I said good morning. A real one. It reached his eyes.
YSE: That is genuinely alarming.
FNN: WHAT'S ALARMING?
He'd arrived mid-conversation with his usual total volume, dropping into his seat with a tray piled considerably higher than breakfast strictly required.
ELS: Corin smiled at me. Properly.
FNN: Corin doesn't smile. Corin has one facial expression and it's mild disapproval.
BRR: That's not entirely fair.
FNN: When have you EVER seen Corin smile, Briar?
Briar, considering the question with more genuine thought than Finn's rhetorical framing had probably intended, found himself, somewhat awkwardly, without an easy answer.
BRR: I mean. He's been in fairly good spirits since break, actually.
FNN: SEE. Something's happened. Something's clearly happened to him over the break and nobody's told the rest of us.
Elsie leaned forward with the particular focused intensity of someone building a genuine investigation.
ELS: And you.
BRR: Me?
ELS: You failed your research project. You told us that yourself, first thing this morning. And yet you seem remarkably at peace about it. Suspiciously at peace, if I'm being honest.
BRR: I made peace with a limitation. That's not suspicious, that's simply maturity.
FNN: Nobody achieves maturity over a two week break, Briar. That's not how maturity works.
BRR: I genuinely don't know what to tell you.
Yseult, who had been listening with the particular sharp attention she brought to any genuine puzzle, set down her own utensils with quiet deliberation.
YSE: I have a theory.
ELS: Go on.
YSE: They fell in love. Over the break. With each other.
The table went silent.
BRR: WHAT?
FNN: OH MY GOD.
BRR: THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED.
YSE: It's the only theory that explains both of you being simultaneously, uncharacteristically content. Shared secret happiness. Classic symptoms.
BRR: Corin and I barely spoke during break!
FNN: DID YOU, THOUGH? DID YOU BARELY SPEAK, OR DID SOMETHING ELSE HAPPEN THAT YOU'RE NOT TELLING US ABOUT?
BRR: We had breakfast together exactly once, three days before term started, purely by coincidence!
ELS: That sounds like a date.
BRR: IT WASN'T A DATE. BEVAN WAS THERE.
FNN: WHO'S BEVAN?
BRR: The groundskeeper. He makes excellent stew. It's a whole separate thing, entirely unrelated to whatever theory Yseult's currently constructing.
FNN: A THIRD PERSON. THIS IS EVEN MORE SUSPICIOUS NOW.
Across the refectory, apparently having caught some fragment of the escalating volume, Corin glanced over with mild, distant curiosity, and the entire table immediately, unconvincingly, attempted to look like they hadn't been discussing him.
ELS: Act normal.
FNN: I AM NORMAL.
ELS: You're doing the opposite of normal right now, Finn.
Mira, who had been quietly eating her own breakfast throughout the entire exchange without comment, finally spoke, her voice carrying the particular understated observation she brought to most things.
MRA: Maybe something simply happened at home. Something good. It doesn't have to be a conspiracy.
The table considered this.
FNN: That's considerably less interesting than my theory.
MRA: I didn't say it was interesting. I said it was probably true.
YSE: She has a point. Occam's razor and all that.
FNN: I don't accept Occam's razor as a legitimate investigative principle.
BRR: Is it because it consistently disproves your theories?
FNN: THAT'S IRRELEVANT.
The conversation continued in this vein for a considerable while longer, theories growing progressively more elaborate, Finn's contributions escalating from secret romance to secret royal lineage to, at one memorable point, the suggestion that both Corin and Briar had been secretly replaced by doppelgangers over the break, a theory that even Finn himself seemed to recognize as a stretch almost immediately upon proposing it. Arthur, listening to the whole increasingly absurd discussion unfold, found himself, mostly, simply glad that both Corin and Briar seemed genuinely, quietly happier than they had been before break, whatever the actual, considerably less dramatic explanation turned out to be. He did not share this observation aloud, recognizing, correctly, that it would do nothing to slow the momentum of Finn's ongoing theorizing.
ELS: What do you think happened, Arthur?
ART: I think you should probably just ask them directly, instead of constructing elaborate theories from across the room.
The table considered this suggestion with the particular universal disappointment of people being offered a sensible solution to a problem they were having considerably more fun investigating dramatically.
FNN: That takes all the mystery out of it.
ART: That's rather the point of asking directly.
YSE: He has a point. Boring, but valid.
FNN: I refuse to accept boring and valid over interesting and unproven.
BRR: That explains a great deal about your midterm results, honestly.
FNN: THAT'S UNRELATED AND ALSO HURTFUL.
The breakfast continued in its familiar, chaotic register, and across the room, entirely unaware of the considerable speculation their newfound contentment had generated, Corin and Talon continued their own quiet conversation, and Arthur, watching the whole scene with the particular fond amusement that had become, across a single term, an increasingly familiar feeling, found himself genuinely looking forward to whatever the new term had waiting for all of them.