“…Easy there. You’ve got yourself a bit of a predicament, here…”
Hands immediately went to steady the half-Brit, and hoarfrost gaze took in what he could of injuries or any oddities. Never mind that nothing in his mind could be translated into his original language… free hand slipped to fish out his phone, dial 119, and then leave that matter for when he could hear the sirens… for now, Sazerac would need to do as much neutral tending as possible. “Take a good deep breath and give yourself a moment… any places where it hurts more?”
Eyes were affixed to that somewhat nasty welt on Hakuba’s forehead. Eyebrows furrowed, but apart from that his expression was relatively neutral…
That voice. It didn’t match that face. No, no- it did. Hattori. Janus. One of the two. Hakuba moved into a sit with the given help and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to press against his temple.
“God…” he sighed. “No, just my head. I think I’ll be all right.”
English, too. Natural, no hesitation or halted words. The foreign detective winced. Slow breaths, collecting himself. “Thank you for the assistance, Mr. Hattori. I’ll admit that I’m more embarrassed than anything.” He opted for the safer name while he puzzled out just to whom he was speaking.
Janus or Hattori, the words he spoke calmed him. Damn that accent. Damn that smooth, sultry voice. It struck him then that it was both odd and kind that the Osakan had chosen to use English to speak to him – it made it far easier to concentrate. Which was good, considering the concussion.
