seriously what is this face
what am I going to do with all of these stupid faces
no wonder liked hakuba back in the old days
Monthly Archives: October 2014
little brother informed me that if I made Hakuba’s inverness cape all black that he’d look like a vampire:
he was right
Meeting Mr. Holmes
“You sound surprised. I made it clear earlier that the idea of this particular suspect being on the loose caused me irritation so surely my eagerness should not be that surprising.” He pivoted around in his chair to face James. “Ah, Mr Hakuba, detective work is all about the chase. If you do not let yourself indulge in the high of the process of catching them then what gratification is there really to our line of work.
Sherlock returned his eyes to the screens as well to scout out the last hour of film for the man he was tailing. “I can understand that feeling. How many of those gentlemen ever got a decent enough reputation to work at Scotland Yard, let lone maintain their positions, is truly the great mystery of London.” He scowled thinking of the many run-ins he had with their kind. The mention of Watson pulled Sherlock’s gaze over to James for just long enough. “You want to meet John someday? I assure you he is a as cynical and easy to impress as his blog makes him seem. He is a good source of relative intellect for me however. I can use him to compare the normality of others to. From time to time he even comes up with a good deduction himself.”
God! This sort of banter was something that Hakuba had longed for in his work. A partner as sharp and cunning as Holmes was a double-edged sword, to be sure, but certainly worth it. He let the comments and dry wit wash over him like the desert wind over dune, smirking as each let him feel more comfortable and familiar with the man who was supposed to be nearly impossible to work with.
"I’m pleased that you speak well of him,” he said in regard to John, tilting his head to look back at the older detective with a teasing smirk. “I’ve heard so many things about him, and while your somewhat blunt appraisal confirms some of the details, it also proves that he’s the worthy sort.”
Hakuba looked back to the monitors, tapping a key here, there, deciding to leave the rest of the commentary where it lay for the time being. After all, Mr. Holmes was, it seemed, rather anxious to catch the culprit, so he turned his attention to the work at hand… with just a touch more about Watson. “I’ve a hawk named after him."
What possessed him to dispense with that information, the blond may never know, but once it slipped out he laughed, hoping it would be passed off as merely an absurd joke.
Oh please oh please.
Terminal Affirmation
“Thank you for the thought but is that what you wish for? For a half of yourself to be canceled by the other?” He asked with a calm serene expression.
The question puzzled Hakuba as he’d meant it as a joke, but as he considered it, really considered it, he wondered. “Hm,” came his immediate answer, buying himself some time by taking another long drink from the coffee cup. “Well, it might be nice to not be so cripplingly formal and polite… It seems that I’ve inherited the the extreme from both sets of genes in that regard.”
He stretched his legs out in front of him, nudging Watson’s carrying cage in the process, and smirked when she made a small, annoyed, chirping noise. “Pardon, miss Watson,” he said, and nudged it again with his foot, immediately sheepish at his apology to the avian, and leaned his head back helplessly.
“I don’t know, Kuroba-kun. I should proudly own all of my mixed heritage, but it’s difficult at times. It’s… a work in progress.”
btw I just made the freakiest icon:
no idea if I’ll ever have a reason to use it but still
A Little Assistance
Conan followed Hakuba’s gaze and hummed thoughtfully to himself. It wasn’t far, but dogs were capable of winding up in another city entirely if their need to run about was strong enough.
When presented with the photo, Conan’s eyes narrowed. His chin was taken between his thumb and forefinger while a wrinkle formed between his brows. He couldn’t deny how obvious the scratches were, but why go through all that trouble to snatch a dog — or, more likely, something it wore? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he had hoped that people were above dognapping.
”Was it a habit of theirs to bring their dog with them everywhere, or was this the first time?”
“Habit, as far as my client has said, though I’ve never noticed dog hair in their car before…” Hakuba frowned as he thought over the niggling detail, looking Conan over again in the process. God, adorable and so observant. Perfect combination.
He turned his attention back to the case at hand, reaching into his suit jacket for his little black notebook while he put the phone away. Flipping to the current page, the blond glanced over his notes then nodded.
“Then again, they’re very wealthy, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they had their car detailed weekly. As for Mikki, she’s supposedly very obedient, which lends credence to the idea that she was dognapped… even so, I’m to look for her in the immediate area, just in case."
Catching Up With Fate
It was rather obvious that Hakuba had trouble undressing, which made the therapist wonder slightly. Did he still get help from someone? Or was it because of the awkward situation here and perhaps more pain than usual today? It sure caused him to go perhaps a little more easy for today than he usually would. If things were this irritating.
While Hakuba scooted back onto the table, Kaito bent over, grabbing the trousers and casually folded them in half before he placed them on an extra chair. The brace followed right after and he disinfected his hands once more, rolling right next to the table, taking a good look. The skin seemed to have healed back together properly, no open wounds or complications he could see. What he did see though was that the injured thigh was distinctly slimmer than the other one, as to be expected after six weeks of not using the muscles.
“From the looks of it, I would say superficially the healing’s going well. The scar’s a good red which means circulation’s working properly. The haematoma is receding nicely as well. Your muscles are a little atrophied, but that was to be expected and we’ll be working on that.” He didn’t bother to colorfully describe common terminology, in Hakuba’s like of work they were just just the same.“I’m going to put my hands on your leg now.” He warned quietly before he gently, yet very assured, slid both of his hands onto the skin next to the scar. “If it hurts or the pressure’s getting uncomfortable, please tell me.” After another second of letting Hakuba become acustomed to his touch, he moved his hands along around the scars, feeling for temperature differences and changes in humidity. Then he used a little more pressure to feel the muscles beneath. “I’ll need some comparison.” Again, just a short warning before he moved one hand towards the other leg, doing the same things over.
“How’s this for you? Feeling any differences?” His gaze slid up to Hakuba’s face as it had been every now and then, judging the other male’s expression.
It hurt, that much was clear, and Hakuba did his best to stay calm and focused despite. His expression betrayed him, though– brows furrowed, face pinched in a grimace, and his fingers clenched and unclenched in anxious fervor.
“My right leg isn’t really in any pain at all,” he said, looking to his uninjured limb. “Just a little sore, though I expect that’s from putting so much weight on it all of the time these days… ah, the left one, though…”
The detective looked down at his offending leg again which, as Kaito had said, was healing remarkably well. Even so, the pain was the deep sort, and Hakuba bit his lip before attempting to explain it. “After all, the femur was fractured by the bullet… that’s… bound to cause some long-lasting pain, isn’t it? It’s normal… … … right?"
Bloody Moriarty
“Yes, unfortunately.” He sighed. Though his words were harsh they held the fondness of a sibling speaking.
Jon scowled at Shinichi and pinched him on the rear causing the detective to yelp and jumped. “What did we promise?”
“I didn’t think that mattered when introducing someone." Shinichi huffed back and rubbed the soar spot. "Hakuba,Twig, this is Jonathan Wriggly, Jon this Hakuba Saguru, a fellow detective and his companion, Twig.”
“Nice to meet you.” The burly man said in a surprisingly flowy kind of Japanese and earned a glare from Shinichi.
Switching back and forth between languages? Hakuba looked from one to the other, then back again, uncertain. He was so concerned, even, that he failed to notice that Shinichi had addressed him as a fellow detective, but that would come back to him when there were less pressing things on his mind. Which convention was appropriate in this instance? A bow or a handshake? If any. The larger man was obviously American, so a simple nod might have done, or a wave, or a muttered growl, perhaps, but…
“A pleasure to meet you, as well,” Hakuba finally replied, opting to stick with Japanese until he was absolutely certain, giving a small, polite bow – oh god why did he come back to Japan? – and an offered hand. “Do you, ah, prefer Japanese or English?"
Twig looked pleased, tail wagging, because although Hakuba was acting like a nervous nelly, he was at least operating under normal enough conditions. She panted, smiling, and waited to make sure that the transaction of pleasantries went according to her expectations.
“Ya ain’.” Said coolly, smoothly. “Yer standin’ ain’ changed in th’ slightest since ya were gone.”
That sort of time almost seemed non-existent to him. The ticks and tocks of each sand into the proverbial glass were felt, but their meaning was gone in his mind of which was distracted with chains of anxiety from mission after mission… The blur between each one should’ve surely disturbed him more than his current expression belied. “Unless, ya’re so eager ta…?”
“I could use a reminder, I think. Things have been…” the detective hesitated, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to take another pull of liquor, eyes closing to appreciate the burn. After a quiet, satisfied exhale of vapor, he glanced back at the other again. “…difficult. So, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me?”
The cigarette found its way back between his lips, still unlit, as he simply observed. Waiting.
Waiting Room Interrogation
“Of course I don’t get an adrenaline rush from ‘moonlight escapades’- as I’ve told you, there aren’t any.”
He needed to get out of there. The room smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol, and it was so small compared to the classroom- he wasn’t claustrophobic, but he hated being cooped up. And, of course, Hakuba. The British detective’s presence always made him feel odd.
Kaito moved his arm, wincing as his shoulder protested. But it did hurt less. He stood up. “‘bye, Hakuba-kun. See you tomorrow.”
"Ah…” Hakuba’s teasing demeanor shifted to concern as he watched the other teen get to his feet, frowning. “Leaving so soon? I thought you were supposed to rest a touch. Are you already right as rain?"
The detective frowned, suddenly sheepish as he tried to come up with some sort of justification to ask him to stay. Or, failing that, to go with him. "It was a nasty spill, after all… could you benefit from an escort, at least?”