[His lips quirk into a slight smirk at her movements — it's comical, he thinks, even if she doesn't appreciate it.]

I fancied a stroll, and it was on the way. [It was pretty, he'd give it that much. For as much as he spoke of loving London, liking the manner in which it was, for all intents and purposes, a very dirty city, he'd never been entirely certain whether he'd come to that opinion as a result of claiming as such — a lie turning into reality, as it were. It was easy to enjoy the countryside and to admire its beauty; London didn't have much of that. There was Hyde Park, of course, a vast expanse of greenery around which houses and shops had sprouted, but there wasn't a great deal to admire — and naturally, he'd claimed he liked that.

But he'd always, always preferred the countryside, be it out of nostalgia or a genuine appreciation for it.]

You must have missed my tale of adventure and daring devilry as I freed these apples from captivity.