Now Emi wasn’t, by any means, a high-maintenance sort of person. Minimal makeup, consignment and antique clothing preferred, and almost no sense of vanity. Usually she rolled out of bed, washed her face, took a shower, threw together an outfit from whatever three pieces she could grab from her closet first (that looked cohesive) and ran out to embrace the day. This day would be very different.
Now the young Himura had been to a few parties with friends, and occasionally went out to town for the evening with a couple of girls, but this would be her first event formally categorized as a date.
Terrified is a fairly accurate word to describe the first emotion she experienced after waking up (fairly late in the morning, around ten).
Of course, it was in company with excitement and overjoy, since… well, c’mon. It’s not a secret to anyone (by now) how much she admired the young man who was going to be arriving later that day. If anyone was going to make a first date memorable and worthy of that honour, there was a good chance Hakuba would do wonderfully.
So the morning began with an intense hygenic runthrough, (almost thirty minutes just perfecting her teeth), and then transitioned into an hour of different hair stylings. Too formal? Not formal enough? Pull it up? Leave it down? Maybe straighten it- oh bother. Eventually, she decided on pulling all of her bangs away into a neatly tucked side-bun, leaving the rest down. Finally, she could organize her apparel. And if her previous preparations had been compared to hurdles, this was a whole obstacle course.
I won’t bore you with the details, but by the end of it, there were eight dresses, six pairs of shoes, five skirts, four blouses, two jewelry boxes and one pantsuit which had all been considered, and discarded. But hey, (even if she wasn’t sure), the result was lovely enough to make up for all of the effort put into it. (She was careful to select a dress which just completely covered her tattoo. If the tips of some feathers showed when she sat, it wasn’t a big deal). And by the time all of that was sorted, and she’d put the finishing touches on (mascara, lipgloss, eyeliner) she had only a half hour to wait.
As the minutes closed in, and she grabbed her purse by the door, she looked at the compartment where she stored her camera, (reversible) jacket and (collapsible) red helmet. There was no reason why she would need them, right?.. Just in case. They nestled in the bottom of her bag (save the small camera), neatly, before she drew in a huge breath, exhaled, locked her door and made (ran) her way down the three flights of stairs, stalling at the bottom, and ogling for a moment the front door of her building. “No time like the present." She murmured, before checking the time on her phone. Perfect. The minute turned almost exactly when she reached the door. (She remembered something about him having a time niche).
And there she found herself opening the front door to her apartment complex, face-to-face with-
A camera.
"Eeeh?" She immediately blinked in surprise, before smiling in a baffled sort of way, "A press ambush! Now that’s hardly fair at all!" She avoided folding her arms, but nervously pulled some hair behind her left ear while making her way closer to his car, "Already turning my tricks back on me, Kameraman-kun! I only wish I was more photogenic.”
While Hakuba’s camera was, no doubt, of less caliber than Emi’s, it was still an expensive digital SLR. Which meant that the detective was able to take a lot of photos very quickly. As she got closer, though, he set it down in lieu of letting himself out of the car so that he could jog around and get her door.
"Nonsense, Himura-san! You’re quite lovely.” She really was. Hakuba made sure to give her a quick once-over, just barely obvious enough for her to notice if she were watching. Then, he smiled with ease, already much more relaxed with the whole affair. After all, his attention was now on her instead of himself, which helped things considerably.
The detective reached for her hand with one of his own, and the car door with the other, swinging it open with a bow of his head.
“Come along, my lady- your chariot awaits."