After some time spent peacefully looking over their menus, Miss Chievous finally works up the nerve to ask her burning question.

"Sooo… What about leftovers? It's okay to order a little extra… Right?" While she tentatively asks this, she's peeking over the top of her menu, closely observing Lucas in order to gauge his reaction.

"Eh? Sure, just don't order anything you don't plan on legitimately eating at least some of, I guess. Don't go crazy. Is that a good idea though? We're gonna be out for a while, an' any leftovers'll go bad before you'd get home to put 'em in the fridge, yeah?" After giving consent, Lucas's attention is then fully pulled off of his own menu by her excitedly hopping in her seat a few times, followed by dropping her menu and reaching into the messenger bag she brought from home.

Miss Calculated has a small smile while chuckling softly, gently shaking her head from side to side a few times.

Miss Masher is far less subtle with her grin and laughter, and definitely makes a mental note to order extra for herself as well.

After digging around within her bag for a few moments, Miss Chievous pulls out and proudly displays a small silver cube, equipped with a few buttons on two sides of it.

[Oh? Interesting...]

"Ooh, whassat?" The shiny metal cube has earned Lucas's completely undivided attention, instantly pleasing his lizard brain.

Miss Chievous is grinning from nearly ear to ear. After a brief display of showmanship, she begins fiddling with the cube a bit, hitting the buttons in a specific sequence.

"Here, catch!" As soon as Miss Chievous hits the last button, she immediately tosses the cube in an underhand throw to Lucas, directly in front of Jonathan's nose.

Lucas deftly catches it with just one hand, feeling particularly smug about his latest enhancement.

'Man, this pro-whatever is grea-'

"HOLY FUCK THAT'S COLD!" Immediately tossing it up in the air, Lucas quickly looks at his hand to make sure he isn't somehow injured from the perfidious shiny trinket, which he isn't.

All three sisters are openly laughing at this point, Miss Chievous is even smacking the table with her right hand in rhythm to her hearty laughter. When the cube finishes falling from the upward throw he made, Lucas catches it and juggles it back and forth between his hands a few times before finally dumping it on the table.

"I wouldn't advise most people to hold it for more than a few seconds, but it should be fine with your endurance, you know. I can only assume she set it to the coldest setting just to mess with you. Obviously, it won't need to be set that low to chill the inside of her bag down to refrigeration levels. And, as I'm sure you've guessed, the bag is lined with an insulator, and has a custom pouch to hold the cube separate from the rest of its contents." Miss Calculated finally gives an explanation once she gets her laughter under control.

Lucas glares at the offending device for a few sulky moments. After noticing the visible frost building up on the table around it, he realizes he probably should give it back so it can get turned off.

Grabbing it and dropping it on his cloth napkin as fast as is physically possible for him, he wraps it up and throws it back at Miss Chievous, but a wee bit harder than necessary, out of sheer spite.

Even though she catches it with both hands, it still has enough force that it impacts her chest, causing her to yelp from the sudden burst of cold. It had been in contact with the napkin long enough to have its chill pervade through it, largely offsetting the usefulness of the cloth wrapping.

Deftly unwrapping it enough that she can grab the freezing metal cube with her own, far less frosty, napkin, she quickly taps the buttons a few times in the proper order to power it off.

Once she tucks it back away into her bag, she rubs her hands together a few times to warm them back up. Her fingertips had turned pink from what limited contact she had made with it over the course of shutting it down.

"Man, I know you designed my phone and everything, but you really do make all sorts of things, huh?" Lucas asks Miss Calculated this rhetorical question once he finally turns his attention over to her.

Smiling with a touch of melancholy, Miss Calculated clears her throat once before answering him.

"Well, I'm not too proud to admit that I… Get bored rather easily. Losing myself in optimizations and constructing solutions to any problem I come across has consistently been the greatest distraction of all. I fear I deserve some of the blame for… Chi's trickster inclinations." Her voice takes on a bit of a sheepish tone at the end, and Miss Chievous quickly slaps the table again with an angry "Hey!".

Given the way Miss Masher is laughing, this is most likely not the first time an exchange along these lines has occurred.

The snicker that escapes Jonathan does not go unnoticed by Miss Chievous, leading to her huffing and crossing her arms with a pout.

Her sulking doesn't last very long, however, as 23 has just extended an arm and gently set a surprisingly tall glass of a pale honey-colored ale in front of her. Her face lights up brightly with the offering, and Lucas's expression similarly lights up when his own brew is delivered.

[Damnit. At least they didn't literally fill a bucket.]

'Mwahahaha victory! That's like what, 3-4 normal glasses worth? Fuck yes!'

If the proverbial daggers that Miss Calculated is glaring at the two glasses had any physical impact on the real world, they'd be shattered into puddles of foamy sand.

[At the very least, you should wait until you've-]

"Bet I can down mine faster than you!" Miss Chievous grabs her glass with both hands, wasting no time at all before she begins chugging.

"Wait no! At least start to eat first!" Miss Calculated is too slow, Miss Chievous has already begun her conquest.

"The fuck you will!" After barely any time at all, Lucas is already catching up to Miss Chievous's lead, everyone and everything in the restaurant is doomed.

[...Fuck, if I take over in the middle of you chugging like that you'd definitely choke in the process.]

427 doesn't find Lucas's mental maniacal laughter particularly soothing.

23 finishes setting the last of the water glasses down, as well as a large soup bowl, filled most of the way with water, in front of Willy.

"I completely understand why you said no refills." 23 lowers its voice significantly as it leans over close to Miss Calculated's ear, covering the purpose behind the movement by setting down a pitcher of water in the center of the table.

As upset as she is by the chugging contest before her, she can't help smiling a bit from 23's comment. At least someone understands. Oh, it seems Jonathan probably does too, given his look of horror.

-----

Lucas total kills: 7

Lucas total deaths: 11

Lucas total assists: 1

Lucas current GDV: 12.20 (+.01 +.01 -.01 = +.01 net change)

Lucas's fame level: 4.50* (Beyond just local, viral meme tier. Local levels are extremely high.)

Lucas's hero suspicion level: 2.5* (More than just passing suspicion for some paranoid individuals, people are realizing he's an impulsive idiot)

Jonathan total kills: 6

Jonathan total deaths: 2

Jonathan current GDV: 3.78

Jonathan's fame level: 2.75* (Mostly just local)

Jonathan's hero suspicion level: 2.75* (A few paranoid individuals are suspicious)

Willy's fame level: 1.5* (Anonymous meme fame, local fame primarily as 'Xenoclast's dog', but some strangers know him as William/Willy now)

Supervillain social circle size: 11

-----

Little character theater:

Jonathan, internally crying and seriously considering crawling under the table, if not outright leaving: Nooo, why!?

Willy is greatly amused by the two alcohol imbibing idiots, happily enjoying the show.

Lucas, delighted that he's now slightly in the lead: 'Ya know, this really is pretty good, it's almost a shame to drink it like this.'

427, doing the digital equivalent of drowning in a pool of his own tears: [I don't even want to hear your thoughts while you're drunk, let alone see what antics you get up to! This is going to be a disaster! I just hope the inevitable rollback goes back earlier than this point!]

Author, gently patting Jonathan on the back: I'm so sorry. I know, you deserve better.

Mr. Quacks, floating in Willy's water-filled soup bowl, contemplating asking for his own bowl, but filled with the same beer that the two dorks are downing rapidly: Quack?