kaitomagic:

Incidentally, that thief was wondering precisely the same thing, albeit in different context, as he was dragged through an overly crowded room by the determined Aoko Nakamori. How had he let her talk him into coming to something like this? The place was crawling with lawmen, and he didn’t even have a target in mind for being there. No plans or ulterior motives to keep his mind occupied… so he was slowly resigning himself to a long, awkward night. At least the place was nice.

It was only when they reached the refreshments counter that Aoko finally released his arm to grab a plate, determined to gather some actual food for her father to cork in all of the wine he was ingesting back at their table and discourage him from adding more to the growing pool in his stomach. Ginzo Nakamori was usually reasonably responsible about his alcohol… but when encouraged or not at work, he didn’t tend to hold back much.

Kaito wandered along with the girl for a few minutes as she picked out the foods she thought her father needed most right then; salad and little sandwiches and slices of meat, frustration showing by her jerky movements and how quickly she managed to form a precarious mountain on that little plate. He could tell she had this handled… so he nudged her arm to get her attention.
“Oi, I’m gonna go find a restroom.”

“What? Oh, okay, sure…” She responded, before turning to face him with narrowed eyes, leveling a sauce covered serving spoon at him. “Just don’t go and disappear for the rest of the night again! You always do that!”

Kaito held up his hands. “I won’t! I’ll be back.”

“You’d better be!”

The girl smiled, then, before turning back to her task- and the way that expression slipped back down her face to form that hostile frown gave Kaito the willies. Her father was really gonna get it if he kept up this night’s antics…

He backed away a step or two before turning to start walking off in his own direction, not actually even looking for a restroom; he’d just needed to have a moment with his own thoughts. Or maybe it was habit that made him feel the need to break away and scope the place… take note of who was there, observe their activities, mentally mark down various escape routes. Whatever it was, he now had his moment of freedom, and he used it to wander idly through the similarly meandering and gossiping crowd of officers and their families. Tables being mostly claimed by said various family and coworker groups, Kaito found his way to the rather nice grand piano set within the room, the bench of which was currently vacant… and took the opportunity to fill it, straightening his dark suit before taking a seat, eying the nearly reflective pattern of white and black keys spanning the length along the front.

The teenager was completely unaware that one Saguru Hakuba was even currently in Japan, let alone at the same gathering he was now neck deep in. Perhaps this was for the best; Aoko would have been rather disappointed if he’d said no to coming along with her.

It was the reflection of the other teenager in the darkened window that Hakuba first noticed; black suit trim and well-fitted to his form. He wore it well, the detective thought, though whether that was from his practice as an amateur stage magician or his moonlighting career, he couldn’t say. Not with proper evidence, anyway, though he suspected it was much more the latter. Ah, Kuroba Kaito… the teenage class clown and veritable thorn in half-brit’s side. Obnoxious during the day, untouchable at night. 

But what was he doing at the event? Ah- the Nakamori girl was likely the culprit. Those two were together from dawn until dusk it seemed; perhaps not by his choice, though he tormented her often enough that their budding romance was obvious. Not that either of them would admit it, no; that wasn’t the way of the Japanese teenager, was it? No… rather not. But still, they had something between them, and it seemed as though she’d brought him along as her date. 

Funny, that. A date. All invited guests had been permitted to bring one – encouraged, even. Hakuba had chosen no one. The only people he had interest in were off-limits for one reason or another. Out of his league, in another country, missing in action, or, like Kuroba-kun, his enemy.

Not that any of them would give him the time of day in the first place. He was the prattish foreigner; the know-it-all who got under everyone’s skin with his silver tongue and harsh wit. A mystery otaku with soiled blood. Which was well and fine. He had no interest in relationships or dating. Certainly not in Japan, anyway. No; once he accomplished his goal, he was going home. Setting roots would only make things more difficult for him later. As if he could trust anyone enough, anyway.

He pulled himself from the leather sofa and straightened his suit, brushing hands over the white fabric with a faint smirk of amusement. What had made him wear white that night? Surely not for Kuroba-kun, whom he calmly following after him to the piano, several steps behind.

Once the other boy was seated, Hakuba casually approached from the side, head inclined to regard him with curious interest. “Might I join you, Kuroba-kun?” he asked, shifting to sit on the bench with him with the assumption that he would make room. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight."