Just as Salomon had expected, little Lorna looked bitter when she learned that she would soon be forced to participate in the social season. Even Dinah's carefully prepared meal failed to spark much interest in her. This London social custom had been revived among New York's artistic circles, becoming even more affected in the process. There were no horse races, regattas, opera festivals, tennis championships, floral exhibitions, or court balls—only stars beneath the spotlights, postmodern art, the clatter of camera shutters, loud-voiced reporters, and fashion shows with ever-worsening taste and ever-increasing political correctness. It had completely strayed from the theme of elegance, perfectly conforming to British stereotypes about Americans.
But that was not the only thing little Lorna found tiresome. She had to wear dresses at those events, and that was what she found most unbearable. She had no desire to wear a custom gown and exchange false pleasantries with those socialites. Little Lorna felt she could see straight through their empty heads at a glance. It was simply too stupid.
"We can wear expedition gear and bring folding shovels to the social dinner!" Salomon's suggestion made little Lorna's eyes light up. She knew her brother still had tricks up his sleeve. If there was anyone at the orphanage most skilled at pranks, it could only be Salomon. Though he had always been well-behaved, when he caused trouble, none of the other children could compare to him. Taking little Lorna to rob S.H.I.E.L.D. funds had only been one of his less remarkable pranks—and since he had attended the renowned Eton College and been in charge of the cane, he had naturally become a target of countless classmates' pranks. Yet his methods constantly evolved through those contests with his classmates, rapidly approaching those of the famous predecessor, the King of Pranks,