HAKUBA
How many languages do you speak.
“Only three fluently; English, Japanese, and French. I’ve picked up a moderate amount of Spanish (mostly because of its similarity to French, being one of the romance languages), but I’d eventually like to learn many more…”
“Incidentally… you’re more welcome to speak to me in French any time you’d like. I may even return it with sweet nothings in kind. French is the most beautiful spoken language, after all, and is best when used to accentuate that."
“Mmmm-mmm this sounds familiar… almost as if I played the same trick on Kuroba Kaito before… Let’s see. I’ll pick Kuroba-san for kissing… Kuroba-kun for sleeping with… and Kaito-kun to marry~”
“I think a better question in my case might be ‘have you ever NOT kissed anyone’ — the answer would still be yes, but…"
“I have noticed a lot of unusual activity around my home lately, actually… though most within my bedroom… Hmm, hmm, hmm. How curious~!”
“Just you wait until I draw for you tomorrow, EMIFACE.”
“How about a rain check? To be claimed at the heist after-party, perhaps…"
Hakuba cradled the tiny dragon in his hands, admiring each clever detail for several minutes. It wasn’t until Baaya noticed the front door open that he realized that he’d been too lost in thought to get out the door and on to his appointment.
Clearly, there was no time to bring it back inside, so he took it with him, despite handing the rose to Baaya to put with the others. The note slipped easily enough into his pocket, and the dragon he was sure to pet the entire cab ride there, before slipping it into one of his inner jacket pockets where it would be safe during his meetings.
What made him think to get me a dragon, I wonder..?
“Thank you, my dear! Even though it’s your fault that I’m in hot yoga, I very much appreciate you and all of our interactions. Thank you for being such a kind and generous friend.”
“…goodness, you’ve been busy.” Hakuba stared down at the tray, shifting ever so carefully to pick up the tray and bring it closer. This kind of breakfast was no easy means to come by in Japan outside of home cooking, but… The detective couldn’t help the eager smile that slid onto his admittedly softened expression, once again touching the rose, and the note.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Hakuba asked to no one. The breakfast was hot, yes; everything was perfect. But if it really was who he thought it was, they would be long gone by now. And instead of search, he tucked into that breakfast, completely unable to resist the call of those tomatoes and mushrooms and everything else.
“Good, then. We love you, too.”