"It's not a cheat!" protests a voice, rising from a minor verbal skirmish at one of the dart games. Sherlock Holmes scowls at his accuser.
"You must be, how do you throw perfectly eight times in a row?"
"I calculate the trajectory," he explains, with no small amount of exasperation--honestly, can't everyone do this?
It seems they can't, and his talent for doing so is further deemed an unfair advantage. He's ejected.
He pauses as he moves away, turning up the collar of his wool coat. He's here watching tonight, getting the lay of the land and some sense for how people interact, the culture, the traditions. But he can't sit and openly watch, that could be suspicious. He's got to look like he's taking part.
Perhaps the professors next, he thinks. Surely no one will protest his accuracy when it comes to money for charity?
no subject
"You must be, how do you throw perfectly eight times in a row?"
"I calculate the trajectory," he explains, with no small amount of exasperation--honestly, can't everyone do this?
It seems they can't, and his talent for doing so is further deemed an unfair advantage. He's ejected.
He pauses as he moves away, turning up the collar of his wool coat. He's here watching tonight, getting the lay of the land and some sense for how people interact, the culture, the traditions. But he can't sit and openly watch, that could be suspicious. He's got to look like he's taking part.
Perhaps the professors next, he thinks. Surely no one will protest his accuracy when it comes to money for charity?