“I don’t believe fer a single second that ya dun miss me.” He scowled at his phone as if the other party could see it. At least he could hear the disdain in the Osakan’s voice. He did his best to coat it in a certain degree of venom.
Not that deep down he didn’t have some sort of respect for the other detective, but it was purely professional. After all, no one enjoyed being called a savage. Heiji just had techniques to finding clues that differed from the other man’s tactics. To be cited for that was uncalled for.
“So after this, I get to play messenger boy? I’m overjoyed.”
Their differences and their similarities were nothing short of a recipe for disaster, and Hakuba made certain to keep a constant vigilance to take note of any faux pas that the Osakan might take. It was nothing short of painful pleasure – or was it pleasured pain? – to associate with the brute who served as a reminder of his embarrassment and an embarrassment to his work.
“I miss you the way a cat misses tinfoil, Hattori-san…” Hakuba said at first, tone with a lofty air as he slumped against the wall, taking a moment to rest while he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you would be willing to pass it along, I would be grateful. I might even be willing to do something in return, if you have need. God, give me a fee schedule and I’ll write you a check.”