Tag Archives: rp

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Lonely Elegance || kaitomagic

kaitomagic:

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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.

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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." 

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le café maladroit || askkudoushinichi

askkudoushinichi:

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He nestled he hands against the back of his head and thought about it for a long moment. His life was pretty hectic, what with still needing to keep his identity a secret and having the Black Organization still roaming around. It was dangerous enough just showing his face on the street but at a public airport terminal? One time avoiding onlookers was lucky but a second time? He didn’t want to chance it.

“I don’t know, really…” he sighed, a little down-trodden after he had really thought it through. “No time soon, I don’t think. One day.”

Leaning forward again he snatched the menu out from behind the table decor and slid it across the table to Hakuba. The menu itself was something he had memorized long ago from living only a few feet over the restaurant. He would be disappointed in himself if he couldn’t remember something as simple as a daily lunch special.

“Order whatever you like. If you’re looking for tea, it’s on the back side under the coffee list. Earl Grey is number three,” he added. It was something he had picked up from the distinct smell of Hakuba’s jacket. The scent of bergamont oil, almost like anise. That particular citrus scent mixed with the smell of oxidized plant matter could only be one thing: Earl Grey tea.

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Although there was concern and some degree of disappointment in the answers regarding London, Shinichi’s unasked for observations regarding the tea meant a pleasant distraction. Hakuba tilted his head, reaching to take the menu from him with a nod of thanks.

“I would ask how you knew my particular favorite, but I really don’t think that it’s necessary. You are, after all, our modern day Sherlock Holmes, are you not?" 

The title had once belonged to him, in London. He wondered if Shinichi knew this, or would even call attention to the fact. Not that it mattered; he’d long since decided to defer to his brilliant full-blooded Japanese counterpart. Jealousy aside, it was only right and fair. Kudou had bested him in every gauge that he’d been able to set, and Hakuba was not above admitting when he was wrong.

He looked over the menu with a faint smirk. "What do you suppose you’ll order? Do you have any other recommendations?" 

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Rain, Rain, Go Away

rutilusincendia:

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Her smile twitched just the slightest. Names and identities, right. She had to try and remember what name she had been using for the past while, needing to make a split second decision on if it was safe to use the same alias or pick a new one. There was never really any guarantee that the stranger wouldn’t connect the dots.

The somewhat short pause was covered as she pulled on the seatbelt. Pretending to be unable to multi-task was something she had picked up over the last few months.

“Izumi would be the name, pleasure to meet you,” a split second decision to use a name she hadn’t used in a long time, coupled with a smile that hopefully seemed friendly enough. “Ah, there is an apartment complex a little ways from here. That’s where I’m headed, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Izumi-san. Really, it’s my pleasure to be of assistance. Dreadful business, being caught in the rain." 

Hakuba was speaking in circles, but he hadn’t exactly prepared for this meeting, or the decidedly off feeling that it had about it… Not that he could really place what was strange; it just was. 

Regardless, once seat belts were securely fastened, he pulled away from the curb and into the rain, driving down the street at a reasonable speed. 

"So, ah…”  he struggled for pleasant small chat topics to cover the silence. “Which school do you attend?” This was typically a safe question to ask; if she were willing to give the information, it would enable him to get a ballpark age range for her. If not, he’d know not to ask any further personal questions at all. 

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Not Quite His Special Guest

notallcatsaregood:

Catlad pressed himself against the wall right beside the door, eyes cautiously glancing through the crack. He didn’t move. Not now. Not yet.

The little glimpse he’d gotten of the other man – blonde, young – had shown that he was unarmed, as far as he could tell, and while there didn’t seem to be any risk in making himself known, he had learnt much too early that it sometimes was better to be cautious.

Besides.

The other had said ‘if’.

He wasn’t sure whether Sylwen was actually here or not and that, if anything, was enough to make a small smirk tug at the thief’s mouth. If he didn’t alert the blonde to his presence, he’d leave, and Catlad could continue with what he came here to do, undisturbed. Hopefully. If he was careful.

Now all he had to do was wait.

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When silence was all that answered him, Hakuba huffed. He felt a little foolish… not because he was likely speaking only to himself, but because of course a thief wouldn’t give their position away so readily. They’d have to be a bloody fool to, and anyone who managed to break into the Hakuba Estate had to be at least somewhat competent. 

After rolling his eyes at himself, he stepped forward and took hold of the doorknob, pushing it forward to swing it wide open. If there was someone there, they’d have to be flushed, wouldn’t they? And if not, there was no harm in checking. As he moved, briskly, deliberately toward the light switch, he gave a heavy sigh.

“I swear to God if you’re playing another practical joke on me, Kaitou-san, I really will arrest you this time…" 

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detectivephiliac:

She accepted the glass with a “thank you”, and was very tempted to drink it all at once. Kyouko decided against it (for now), and merely took a much smaller sip.

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“…I have a… friend…” Talking about this should have been a big ‘NO’ for the detective, but the conversation had brought up this dulled envy that she was familiar with.

“He went though these unhappy moments – the very same ones I dwell far too much upon. Put our personalities and previous experiences side-by-side, and he should be worse off than me. But… he uses these unhappy moments to propel himself forward. He never forgets them, and instead holds those dark moments close, so he can go on… …It’s… admirable. It makes me jealous. He saved my life multiple times with this kind of thinking. If it wasn’t for his… hope that he managed to forge out of the despair, I certainly wouldn’t be speaking to you today.”

Alright, this seemed like a good time to down the entire glass of alcohol in her hands. So she did just that.

Hakuba watched her face as she spoke, quiet and calm as he sipped his own scotch. The reverent way in which she spoke of this person made it clear that he was – or still is, really, with the choice of present-tense words – very important to her. So important that there was a definite degree of reluctance in her speech. Why? he wondered. Were they still close? What situations prompted the necessity to save her life?

She was a detective. That career choice alone set them on a path of danger. But this seemed something more. Something… complicated. He let his gaze rest on her features as she drank, then followed the empty glass afterward, reaching for the bottle to pour her another. Just one shot; it was meant to be sipped, not gulped.

"That is, indeed, admirable. Those who are able to remain positive and optimistic, even in the most dire of circumstances, are few and far between… rare and precious; to be held onto. I sometimes wonder how they manage. But I suppose,” he said, setting his glass down before getting to his feet again to wander to the liquor cabinet once more. “Despair, for some, becomes cumbersome… even dull. And after a while, when you’ve found that the despair hasn’t killed you, there’s nothing left but to pick up the pieces of your shattered life and attempt to move on…”

He pulled out two water bottles and offered one to her as he took his seat again. Mountain spring water. Imported. "Here.“

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Save Me || toshio-fukawa

toshio-fukawa:

The writer was already on edge from having to fight through the crowd. The careless chatter of city folk, the patter of feet on pavement…. all at once it was almost enough to drive him into full panic mode. For underlying all of the unease caused by unwelcome stimuli was the worry associated with an enormous research paper that he still hadn’t even purchased the right texts for. So, with the full intent of keeping to himself and staying as invisible as possible the writer had tugged on a sweater and set off for Kodemi’s Library and Cafe.

The only precursor to the abrupt seizure of his arm was the sound of screeching tires, which Toshio paid no mind to. He’d just assumed that some idiot had been texting behind the wheel and swerved a little, or…..or….but turns out that it was in fact this lunatic who, after dashing across a busy street, had run straight to him.

“Let go of me!” He cried, getting only a brief glance at his attacker’s face before focusing on the hand that as closed around his arm. It wasn’t a threatening hold, and….and the stranger said he needed help? Catching sight of the panic in the stranger’s intelligent brown eyes Toshio stopped struggling and gulped a few times. Being useless, how could he ever be helpful to someone… “What i-is it? I don’t w-want to buy anything and won’t give you money, if that’s what you’re after.”

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“Oh, God no,” Hakuba said quickly with a shake of his head. He straightened up, brows knitting helplessly over a nervous smile. “I’m, ah, trying to get away from someone… could you pretend to be one of my clients, just for a moment? I’m a detective; I’ll make it worth your while." 

Although he was reluctant to do so, he removed his hand from the other teenager and transferred the coffee cup to it so that he could fish out one of his business cards to offer to him. Despite the unusual circumstances of their meeting, it did appear to be legitimate. Hakuba Saguru, Private Detective. 

"You’d just need to walk with me a short while – perhaps to that bookshop? Talk to me as if you’ve got something on your mind. She won’t approach if she thinks I’m in a business meeting. Please. I’m absolutely desperate for your assistance." 

And he was, really. That particular woman was someone that he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with for quite some time, yet. No, he was certainly not ready to face her, and he hoped and prayed that this would be evident on his face.  

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Lonely Elegance || kaitomagic

It was a party just like many that he’d attended; men and women dressed in formals, mingling, drinking, enjoying themselves. Unlike the usual affair, however, these were people that he was all too familiar with. A catered event for the police, even, with inspectors and traffic officers alike taking advantage of the open bar. On the one hand, this meant that the shop talk was at least remotely interesting to Hakuba. On the other, it also meant that he was dreadfully alone. Too young to really be part of them (and, really, several resented the fact that he was even involved in real police work), too familiar with their work to just go along as a guest.

Such was the life of the Superintendent General’s son, however. He took it in stride for the most part, finding a perch in a lonely corner to quietly observe while he drank his glass of champagne. It wasn’t the best he’d had, he thought to himself, swirling the pale liquid from side to side. The hors d’oeuvres left much to be desired, as well. Then again, this was just a formality; an event thrown together to make them feel appreciated. It wasn’t at all like the high class parties his mother put together on a regular basis, meant for those with money. This, as nice as the venue was, only had a large enough budget to make them feel like they had money. 

He sighed, reading the lips of those who passed him, taking note of skirt lengths, the kind of ties the men wore and how what knots they used, hair color, contact lenses on those who normally wore glasses, and so on. Hakuba checked his watch every so often, verifying the time between pocket watch and wrist, attempting to keep mentally count down the seconds in a little game of accuracy. Most often, though, his gaze was drawn back to the window and the cityscape below, wishing he were wandering rooftops, climbing damned ladders, feet pounding on pavement in hot pursuit of a culprit.

Cheek rested on the palm of his hand, Hakuba let his mind wander. Although he wore white that night, no one paid him mind so long as he stayed in the shadows.  Mm. White. Like a certain thief. 

I wonder what he’s doing right now… 

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wewillstartwiththeridingcrop:

After lingering impatiently on the corner for a few seconds, Sherlock was relieved when the young man finally seemed capable of moving once more. As brief as the time he had been waiting had been, it was time wasted that the suspect was using to get further away from him. There was absolutely no way he was going to elude capture by Sherlock himself but the notion of him roaming free irked Sherlock immensely, especially when he was currently idle. “Good, now we have got that sorted and all the trivial formalities out the way we can leave. Time is something that I have but I would rather not squander when I could be bringing that man to justice, be it by violent means or not.”

Slowing up his pace a tiny bit to allow Hakuba to catch up, Sherlock moved his attention to his recent companion. “What makes you be such an attentive member of the public? As suspicious as the men I am after look, I doubt any normal person would take more than a few seconds notice of them, much less note down their distinct facial tattoo, the time they appeared and the direction in which they went.”

There was a momentary wince to the polite smile that Hakuba wore as he assured himself as had been expected: no, the great Sherlock Holmes had not heard of him, ‘celebrity’ detective or otherwise. But that fact also came as sort of a boon: If he weren’t familiar with him, then he likely wasn’t aware that he’d worn one of those deerstalker caps for the papers and magazine articles, imitating Mr. Holmes himself. Such was his relief! Instead, he could focus on impressing the man through demonstration, leaving pre-biased reputation at the door.  

This seemed of particular importance now more than ever, as his idol was a tad more… harsh than he’d originally expected. 

“Understood; my apologies. To answer your questions, I’m a detective likewise, though an amateur yet,” Hakuba explained as they walked. He kept pace, extinguishing the cigarette at the zebra crossing between them and the building they were to enter for the security footage, grinding it against brick before disposing of it in the bin. “And there’s a man that I’m looking for with a similar mark. He’s not likely to be through this area today, if the pattern I’ve notated is correct, but it was as good a spot as any for a smoke.”

It was with conscious effort that he tried to keep his responses as quick and efficient as his step, not wanting to delay Mr. Holmes any further. The last thing he wanted to do was to be a burden. Especially when there was so much he could learn.

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((Since it’s Christmas I figured Sherlock should meet someone new)) Striding quickly down the street, Sherlock glanced back and forth across the surroundings for any sign of the man he had been following. Seeing none, he sighed in frustration and slumped against the wall. How unfruitful this had been! It was a few moments before he realised there was someone stood very near to him. “You! Have you seen a man with a facial tattoo pass by? He is about 6 foot tall. Hurry up and say, I am in a rush.”

His arrival had been noted with great interest by the someone, who then quietly pulled the lit cigarette from his mouth to consider the request. He turned his head away, blew out a puff of smoke, and answered while reaching for the little black book in his breast pocket with his free hand.  

“I have, as a matter of fact. Five, to be precise, within the past hour that meet such description.” Hakuba glanced at him sideways, attempting to appear casual. He knew who this was: he’d made himself intimately familiar with Mr. Holmes’ cases, both via John’s blog and the actual police records at the station. To say that he was excited was an understatement. “If you could be more specific, I might be able to assist you. What sort of facial tattoo?”

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We Can Make A Secret Rendezvous

phantom-thief-kid:

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“Maybe they need a good pranking. Still, it is a reversal of the norm, where I’m the one that isn’t on your last nerve, hopping up and down frantically on it.” He let Hakuba do so, though he had a Chershire cat grin now. Despite that, he noted the weariness. “Perhaps you could take a break? Or at least deal with casework that isn’t so irritating.”

“I can’t take a break… too many murders going on. Too many many cases being closed when they really shouldn’t be…”  Hakuba frowned. "…And, I really would hope that you wouldn’t intentionally do that to my last nerve. That sounds decidedly uncomfortable.“