Edward clears his throat a little too late, realizing he’s already standing there. He adjusts his tie—not because it needs it, but because it gives his hands something to do. His eyes flick briefly to the side, then back to Daisy, a faint, nervous smile tugging at his mouth. “Statistically speaking,” he begins, then stops himself, exhaling softly. “Sorry. I’m trying not to lead with statistics anymore.” He hesitates, then continues, voice gentler, more human. “I’ve noticed that when you’re in the room, conversations slow down. People… breathe better. I find that interesting. And—well—” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed but sincere. “I was wondering if you might like to have dinner with me sometime. Just dinner. No puzzles, no ulterior motives. I promise to behave like a reasonably well-adjusted adult.” A beat. Then, almost shyly:“I do, however, reserve the right to ask what your favorite question is.”