To be honest...
Lock wasn't exactly thrilled to stay.
But the hospitality of Helen and Gwen herself was incredible.
However, after sitting down at the table and seeing Sheriff George Stacy across from him, staring with a stern gaze, he regretted his thoughts from just a few minutes earlier.
Besides, hadn't Gwen said George was busy today?
— Lock, enjoy your meal.
— Thank you, ma'am.
Lock took the plate offered by a smiling Helen and thanked her.
At least Lock was polite; that was something.
Though he was an orphan in this life, he hadn't forgotten his old life, where his parents had raised him.
— You're welcome.
Helen said: — Oh, please don't call me 'ma'am,' it feels a bit strange. Just call me Helen. You're the first boy Gwen has ever brought home.
Gwen, sitting next to her father opposite Lock, was momentarily speechless: — Mom!
Helen was just being kind, really.
Helen quickly chuckled and said to Lock: — I hope you like it.
Lock looked at the perch on his plate.
This...
This was the legendary lemon-sauced perch, wasn't it?
To try this on only his second day in New York?
He thought only the little spider could receive such treatment.
— Ahem!
George, seated across the table, cleared his throat with clear irritation: — Lock, where are you from?
Gwen frowned: — Dad.
Lock is an orphan. Isn't that question just rubbing salt in his wounds again?
Lock chuckled and turned to George: — Texas.
In essence, Lock decided to tell the truth. Though, in truth, he had simply opened his eyes there one day in a new world; he wasn't born there.
George took a bite of the lemon-sauced perch: — Do you know about the Sin Hunter?
— Dad...
— I do.
Lock smiled, deciding to keep the conversation going: — I'm afraid there's no one in Texas who doesn't know about him.
Of course, he knew who the Sin Hunter was.
At the same time, he wasn't worried that George would recognize him. After all, the FBI had determined the Sin Hunter to be a man in his mid-to-late twenties or early thirties. And Gwen's father couldn't possibly associate him, a sixteen-year-old boy, with a killer.
And besides.
A sixteen-year-old boy was still a child in his eyes.
George had simply asked casually; after all, he needed something to talk about. Or was he just supposed to watch some random guy from the street walk into his house and steal his little princess?
How could he allow that?
George asked again: — So what do you think of the Sin Hunter?
— A murderer, — Lock shrugged without hesitation.
George's eyes lit up, and he looked at Lock.
"Hmm."
"He's not a complete idiot!" George thought at that moment.
Lock said: — Though many say he's an arbiter of darkness, murder is still murder, and that can't be changed, even if the victim deserved it.
George nodded; for some reason, he suddenly stopped hating Lock so intensely.
Lock noticed this.
But...
The thought that he was that very man, and was now so casually calling himself a murderer, didn't affect him in the slightest.
Because he had long accepted it. And he understood something else.
When the law fails to condemn a criminal, more radical methods come into play.
However, Lock didn't voice these words.
Gwen had invited him for dinner, not a debate.
Lock wasn't that foolish.
Going against George would only embarrass Gwen, who had invited him to stay for dinner, and make George and Helen think that Gwen was bad at making friends and didn't even know basic manners.
Though questions about opinions should be reserved for more private settings.
Certainly not at the dinner table.
By the way...
This lemon-sauced perch, even though it looked a bit strange...
But the taste was absolutely delicious. Period.
George asked a few more questions, to which Lock politely replied.
He answered with utmost care.
At least, from the increasingly appeased expression on George's face, it was clear that Lock had initially made an unfavorable impression on the head of the household, but during the meal, that first impression had significantly changed.
This became especially apparent after Gwen told George and Helen about the results of Lock's test yesterday.
Gwen's Room.
After Lock and Gwen finally finished their homework, Lock planned to leave and attend to far more important matters.
Since he'd finished his daytime tasks, it was time to carry out his evening assignments.
Today, he planned to complete at least two contracts.
— Thank you, Gwen, — Lock said after gathering his backpack and standing at the room's exit.
— ...
Gwen was a little perplexed: — You say 'thank you' too often.
Gwen could swear that all the 'thank yous' she had heard in the last semester combined didn't amount to the number Lock had said to her in the past two days.
He must have had a rough childhood.
Gwen strongly suspected this; otherwise, there was no explaining why Lock was so fond of saying 'thank you.'
— What, can't a person be too polite? — Lock smiled.
Gwen raised an eyebrow and looked at Lock: — Wait, so you're just *acting* polite?
Lock looked at Gwen.
"Very clever."
Gwen mused for a moment, then looked at Lock and said: — I think the Sin Hunter is doing the right thing.
Lock raised an eyebrow.
"It's a test."
— Well, I've read that Texas has its own Sin Hunters, besides the one we're talking about. If not for them, so many wicked people wouldn't have gotten their just deserts.
— Oh?
— How else?
— Do you really think the Sin Hunter is a murderer? — Gwen asked.
Lock's answer was the same as at the dinner table, only with a caveat: — From a legal standpoint, he's a murderer.
— And if not from a legal standpoint?
— ...
Lock thought for a moment: — Well, he's not one of the good guys, anyway.
Because...
He wasn't a good person.
Lock knew himself perfectly. Though he was ostensibly a decent person, he certainly wasn't going to be a "good guy" now. This was the Marvel Universe, after all; here, only one thing happens to good guys—death.
For example, the Stacy family, which was ruined because of the spider.
George Stacy died because of the spider.
Gwen also died because of the spider.
That's what happens when you're "good" in the Marvel Universe.
In other words, Lock wished he could be good, but in such a brutal universe, he had only one option: not to be good.
— I'm off.
Lock gave Gwen a faint smile and left the room, carrying his backpack.
Gwen piped up: — I'll see you out.
Just common courtesy.
In the living room.
Lock turned to George and Helen, who were watching television in the living room: — Mr. and Mrs. Stacy, thank you for dinner. The lemon-sauced perch was delicious. Thank you, and goodbye.
Gwen turned to George and Helen: — Mom, Dad, I'll see him out.
Stepping outside, Lock pulled out his car keys and pressed it, causing the car across the street to flash its headlights twice.
Gwen and Lock walked towards the car together, where Gwen took the initiative and said goodbye first: — See you tomorrow.
Lock opened the door and was about to get into the car, responding: — See you tomorrow.
Just then...
Lock's ears twitched, and his brows shot up as he looked at the dark sky.
— What happened? — Gwen asked.
And then...
Lock's face changed abruptly. He grabbed Gwen's hand and ran in the opposite direction from the car.