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[drabble] More crack
Dec. 22nd, 2009 12:37 pm“What do you know about solving crimes, anyway?” Yuuta was saying gruffly as Saeki fiddled with his cravat in the mirror, brows furrowed and tongue between his teeth as he attempted to tie the damn thing for the fourth time that hour.
“About as much as you do about medicine,” was Saeki’s muttered reply, and he tucked one corner under – wait, over – and then finally gave up, smoothing the excess fabric under his vest. “But I’ve read a couple mysteries in my day. Just interview the client, take stock of the person least likely to have committed the crime, and then stick to that until they crumble and confess. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
He lifted a bowler’s hat and plunked it unceremoniously onto Yuuta’s head.
“Huh, is that all.” Yuuta’s hands went to the brim of his hat, pulling it a little lower. “… except, don’t forget about the curve balls,” he warned. “There’s always curve balls.”
“We won a high score in an arcade and then woke up in the fucking 1880s. You don’t think maybe that’s enough of a curveball?” Saeki snorted, opening the door to the –what was it? – drawing room.
Inside, their clients waited, a tall slim man cutting an unbelievably sharp figure in a suit he seemed born to, the tips of dark curling hair and a faint smile just visible from beneath his top hat. Beside him, and currently commanding his attention, was a slim boyish girl who seemed as uncomfortable in her dress as her companion was comfortable in his suit. She had round, fine eyes, and looked damned familiar to Yuuta… maybe the great-grandmother of... wait...
“—what the fuck?!” Yuuta gasped uncontrollably, one hand clutching his chest as he nearly staggered into Saeki’s back.
“--- YOU!” Tachibana An cried in return, half-rising and pointing with an accusing, trembling finger.
From beside her, her companion removed his top hat and leveled a cool look at Saeki, Yuuta, and then Saeki again. Yukimura Seiichi heaved a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders drooping imperceptibly under the heavy wool of his greatcoat.
“I should be surprised,” he said distantly, “but for some reason, I’m really not.”
“About as much as you do about medicine,” was Saeki’s muttered reply, and he tucked one corner under – wait, over – and then finally gave up, smoothing the excess fabric under his vest. “But I’ve read a couple mysteries in my day. Just interview the client, take stock of the person least likely to have committed the crime, and then stick to that until they crumble and confess. We’ll be out of here in no time.”
He lifted a bowler’s hat and plunked it unceremoniously onto Yuuta’s head.
“Huh, is that all.” Yuuta’s hands went to the brim of his hat, pulling it a little lower. “… except, don’t forget about the curve balls,” he warned. “There’s always curve balls.”
“We won a high score in an arcade and then woke up in the fucking 1880s. You don’t think maybe that’s enough of a curveball?” Saeki snorted, opening the door to the –what was it? – drawing room.
Inside, their clients waited, a tall slim man cutting an unbelievably sharp figure in a suit he seemed born to, the tips of dark curling hair and a faint smile just visible from beneath his top hat. Beside him, and currently commanding his attention, was a slim boyish girl who seemed as uncomfortable in her dress as her companion was comfortable in his suit. She had round, fine eyes, and looked damned familiar to Yuuta… maybe the great-grandmother of... wait...
“—what the fuck?!” Yuuta gasped uncontrollably, one hand clutching his chest as he nearly staggered into Saeki’s back.
“--- YOU!” Tachibana An cried in return, half-rising and pointing with an accusing, trembling finger.
From beside her, her companion removed his top hat and leveled a cool look at Saeki, Yuuta, and then Saeki again. Yukimura Seiichi heaved a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders drooping imperceptibly under the heavy wool of his greatcoat.
“I should be surprised,” he said distantly, “but for some reason, I’m really not.”
