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Sebastian accepted the handkerchief. He never really cared to hold back crying before and he didn't care to start now. So, soon the offering was as damp with his tears as his sleeves.
"I-I know! But..." He sighed. "It's just one thing after another... as always... I'm starting to think I'm the common determinator. The victim probably hates that I'm the one prosecuting for her."
And the prosecutor had thought that today was the day. After the absolute disaster of investigation where they had to enlist help from this detective, they finally had it! Sebastian just had to finish the culprit off in court!
And yet...
He blew his runny nose into the handkerchief.
❝ you owe it to the victim to keep going until it's all said and done, ❞ the supervising detective's gentle chiding accompanies a small smile and a half - lidded, sympathetic gaze. most importantly, it also escorted an offered handkerchief into sebastian's palms for stray tears. ❝ and without a verdict, it's not. not yet. ❞
﹙ @legalbrats ⎯⎯ ✎ ﹚
#sinsolucion#showing off the badge | ic#the best of the best | sebastian#[i'll give your boy a tag a little later :3]#[Thank you for the starter and thank you for the wait!]#[I hope it was worth it :)]#[rip the handkerchief tho hope he didn't want it back soon]
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"I know it's probably no' the kinda fare yer used to 'avin'." Gina sat down on one of the courthouse benches next to Seb, two styrofoam containers followed by a couple bottles of cold water. "I can't exactly afford the fancy feasts you prosecutors enjoy, plus this was a fav'rite of my mentor's back in the UK."
Opening one of the foam containers contained a pile of thick cut fries and a huge piece of battered fish, she'd hand it to the prosecutor along with a plastic knife and fork. She opened the second one for herself, revealing the same kind of food. "Well, dig in."
Sebastian watched curiously as Gina took a seat beside him. He tilted his head, not unlike Toby would when somebody tried to explain anything to the dog. Perhaps, if the prosecutor had a tail, he would also wag it the same way when presented with food.
"Wait, it's for me?!" He asked, looking genuinely surprised, despite it having already been confirmed in multiple ways. A big smile bloomed on his face. "Thank you! It smells delicious!"
"And don't even worry about the fancy stuff. I'm just trying to look fancy, 'cause everyone else does," he confessed, trying to cut himself a piece of the fish, "Sort of. But fancy food is just..." He paused to make disgusted 'Bleugh' sound. "You pay so much and get so little and it doesn't even taste good."
#themxtleycrew#showing off the badge | ic#a new green leaf | gina#the best of the best | sebastian#[IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS]#[but I hope reading it makes up for it :)]
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Sebastian tried to grasp at the meaning behind Detective Barlowe's words, but it was hard to move past his tone. The correct version of the phrase and the new saying lost the fight for space in Sebastian's head. Instead, it was filled with echos of disappointment.
The young prosecutor's shoulders tensed up at the detective's hands falling on them. Sebastian's heart pounded in his ears. He was too scared to do anything but let Barlowe lead where he wanted him to be.
It was stupid of him, Sebastian knew. He shouldn't be scared of the detective. Or of him putting his hands on him. He shouldn't feel like a rabbit between a wolf's teeth. He didn't want to think about this either. He probably should. Later.
"Uhm," he tried to process what the detective asked of him. Then he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say. It probably took him longer than Barlowe wanted. "Um. I see a complete mess of a crime scene? It's like a tornado went through here... My room once looked like this when I lost my keys." Which Blaise later found after they came back from whever they were going that day... "Oh, maybe the victim also lost something!"
Detective Barlowe's response made Sebastian's stance waver. The the boy twitched, blinking away the tears and afterimages of fire burning against bright red leather and its light reflecting in goggles. He hoped the detective wasn't a smoker.
However, the baton completely lowered only at the mention of the case's importance, of the pressure Sebastian felt to do his job and to do it right. The feeling had always been there, weighing on his shoulders. But Sebastian had only recently found out just how heavy it was. And now he had to carry it by himself. On his hunched shoulders, in his trembling hands, with only his baton for comfort.
He didn't want to think about it. He probably should.
Still, he took the opportunity to distract himself with Barlowe's explanations. After all, he needed to pay attention to solve this case. He could ponder those feelings later.
"Oooh, that's what it is..." The tears disappeared as quickly as they came and Sebastian nodded in understanding.
A short pause.
"I..." He hesitated. There was nothing in his brain. Nothing specific. Usually, he would have no problem admitting it. But with this detective... He braced himself. "I don't know... yet... It's just... It looks so bad, right? It's so trashed and it's an old thing. Old things should be expensive and sturdy. Because they are "built last" or something like that."
#lupinoire#showing off the badge | ic#the best of the best | sebastian#mirror shards and muzzles | raymond#[sighs]#[at least my boy is still himself]
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Which rare human emotion are you?
Nikhedonia
The feeling of excitement or elation that comes from anticipating success. You place your bets and wait to see what life will give you - and more often than not you have felt your success coming. Enjoy this, but remember that not every hand will work out for you, and that is okay. Failure is not such a terrible thing - and your life will be richer when you can move past the fear of it.
tagged by @bloodxhound
tagging: @sinsolucion, @theothervonkarmagirl (Maria), @kodapi and you, however you came across this post
#they call you crybaby | sebastian's musings#paperwork | memes#[oh thank god i was starting to believe i was somehow bad at personality tests]
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𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?
cassandra
you are cassandra from the trojan women by euripides and agamemnon by aeschylus. people have tried to silence you one too many times, but you are resilient. your own dignity and agency have always come first, but at a great cost. you know yourself and your inner strength, but that won't ever stop you from feeling completely alone in the world. sometimes simply enduring the pain won't be enough, no matter how hard you want it to be. above all, you must never lose your unwavering hope in mankind, even as the world forsakes you. it is what keeps you human.
tagged by: @bloodxhound
tagging: @moonlessnight125 [pick any one you'd like!]; @theothervonkarmagirl [both!]; @oredca [i'd like to get to know your character better ;)], and YOU random citizen!
#they call you crybaby | sebastian's musings#paperwork | memes#[i think this is the result he would get if he did the test himself tbh]#[which is kind of accurate?]#[sort of?]#[like 85% correct]
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Ema's outstretched hand fell to her, but she felt no insult. She was in the presence of Miss Nakamura after all! All of the forensic department was like a hall of celebrities to Ema, stars in her eyes blinding her to any concerns.
For the same reason Ema felt a bashful giggle raise in her throat at the mention of her test results. She couldn't believe Miss Nakamura thought so highly of her! And after she had failed so many times...
It wasn't the time to dwell on that, however. Her supervisor had a job for and she would be happy...?
Ema took the bin she was offered. She stared at it. Stars fell from the skies of her eyes and into the bin, quickly replaced with confusion. What the hell was that?
"Oh —!" She looked back up at the Forensic Nakamura, trying to keep all her thoughts inside her brain. She couldn't let her stupid mouth ruin this! Whatever this was! "Uh, sure! Paperwork! Easy! But, uh... Can't say I've ever had it handed to me this... beautifully!"
@kamipyre's got a new subordinate!
Ema was on her way to the forensic department. It was a familiar route. One she had known since she was a teenager. One she had walked a million times for her job as a detective. But, for the first time, the path was leading her to her dream becoming reality. For the first time in years, Ema had a skip to her step and a giant smile on her face. She even warmly greeted the faces that she would have loathed to see just last week.
What finally getting the dream job did to a woman...
She giggled to herself at the thought, scaring yet another person she happened to pass. People had been avoiding this oddity. Some whispered to the other that Ema must have finally lost her mind.
Maybe she had. Maybe it was all a hallucination, too good to be true.
But as she pushed the door open, the cold metal on her warm skin, she had no doubt. It was real. She was finally living the dream.
She took a moment to really breathe it in. To enjoy it. To linger in the feeling of belonging.
She felt like a movie princess. She wanted to sing.
She sighed. And marched forward in search of the person destined to be her supervisor from now on.
Oh lord, no more stupid ‘macho’ police officers to look out for. No more stupid glimmerous prosecutors to pull on the leash connected to her badge.
“Good morning!” she greeted a little too loudly when she saw the scar dressed person the HR had described to her. She even saluted out of habit. “I’m Ema Skye! I’m sure you’ve seen me around whenever I’ve come for the forensic results as a detective. But today I’m transferring to your department! Pleased to finally work with you!” She offered a handshake with the same hand she had saluted.
#kamipyre#showing off the badge | ic#fräulein detective | ema#[god help her]#[I find this so funny for some reason]
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@legalbrats
Para tú~! Your design for an older Sebastian really inspired me!
#[MY BOYYY]#[I need to post the original and properly tag everything]#[but I want everyone to see it first!!!!]#[love your headcanon]
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Detective Barlowe's response made Sebastian's stance waver. The the boy twitched, blinking away the tears and afterimages of fire burning against bright red leather and its light reflecting in goggles. He hoped the detective wasn't a smoker.
However, the baton completely lowered only at the mention of the case's importance, of the pressure Sebastian felt to do his job and to do it right. The feeling had always been there, weighing on his shoulders. But Sebastian had only recently found out just how heavy it was. And now he had to carry it by himself. On his hunched shoulders, in his trembling hands, with only his baton for comfort.
He didn't want to think about it. He probably should.
Still, he took the opportunity to distract himself with Barlowe's explanations. After all, he needed to pay attention to solve this case. He could ponder those feelings later.
"Oooh, that's what it is..." The tears disappeared as quickly as they came and Sebastian nodded in understanding.
A short pause.
"I..." He hesitated. There was nothing in his brain. Nothing specific. Usually, he would have no problem admitting it. But with this detective... He braced himself. "I don't know... yet... It's just... It looks so bad, right? It's so trashed and it's an old thing. Old things should be expensive and sturdy. Because they are "built last" or something like that."
A soft whine escaped Sebastian as he rubbed the back of his head.
He was inspecting something on the floor. He was about to stand up and call for a forensic, but instead he hit his head on a cabinet’s door above him. The door closed on the hand of the police officer who had been checking the cabinet’s contents.
Both yelped in pain. Both jumped at Detective Barlowe’s voice. They shared glances, one teary-eyed and one concerned, wondering which one he was talking to. However, the detective continued and the officer sighed in relief and quickly retreated, leaving Sebastian to deal with the annoyed man by himself.
“I’m trying!” the prosecutor argued, feeling defensive.
He appreciated people being direct with him, but this guy’s brand of bluntness… He could almost hear ‘idiot’ at the end there in a familiar tone. Memories lit anew by Detective Barlowe hadn’t had the chance to go cold in the first place. Heaps of papers concerning his father’s… everything… awaited Sebastian at his desk even now.
Sebastian bent the baton in his hands and it creaked in warning.
“I didn’t exactly ask to be here…” he mumbled. Were they really that short-staffed that they couldn’t leave him alone for a moment to deal with things? Then he sniffled, sighed and pointed at Barlowe with his baton. “But since I’m here anyway! I’m trying! And! Um… I’m trying to figure out what’s here on the floor.”
#lupinoire#showing off the badge | ic#the best of the best | sebastian#mirror shards and muzzles | raymond#[i promise to be briefer next time]#[now that we got all their issues out of the way-]
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repost, don’t reblog!
FULL NAME: Sebastian Debeste
OTHER NAMES: Eustace Winner (don't ask); Bestie; Sebby; Idiot...
AGE: 17-24
PRONOUNS: He/him
SEXUALITY: Demi-bi... but he never thought about it too much
ORIGIN: Born and raised in the magical land of Japanifornia
CURRENT LOCATION: Most likely Japanifornia... Unless?
NATIONALITY: Is Japanifornia a country?
SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Ha-ha, ha-ha... one! (English)
RELIGION: Follows the word of the Goddess of law... Which is to say, he isn't particularly religious. An atheist, really.
---
HEIGHT: 5'8''; 173 cm
BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, cannot gain muscle or fat to save his life. Very lean rectangle, not even a nice waist to show for being so slim.
TATTOOS: None! Someone take him to a tattoo shop.
PIERCINGS: Also none! Someone get his ears pierced.
SCARS: His hands are covered in burn marks. There are other several questionable marks on his body, but they aren't as visible. If someone were to cup his left cheek, they'd feel faint leftovers from the times he had repeatedly hit himself with his baton on accident.
---
EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND: Finished Themis Legal Academy as a prosecutor at the top of his class. Not that it means anything anymore.
SOCIAL MEDIA: Has an account on most social medias, but mainly uses one or two: to keep up with coworkers and friends.
DRUGS: Has never tried in his life.
ATHLETIC: Doesn't enjoy any sport in particular or exercises in general. But has very well-trained lungs. Will never run out of air doing anything.
HOBBIES: Enjoys piano and playing around with music programs. Likes starting collections despite rarely committing to them. A big fan of weird animal facts and loves "uncharismatic" animals in general; think like bugs and such.
VIRGIN: hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... no, he isn't.
FAVORITE DRINK: Hot chocolate/cocoa. Anything hot and sweet to enjoy while watching the rain.
FAVORITE FOOD: He doesn't have a specific dish he likes. He likes fast food and things like instant noodles; something that is easy to make and tasty. However, what he loves most of all is when someone puts in the effort to make him something. His loved ones' cooking is favorite food.
FAVORITE MUSIC: Has versatile music taste. Enjoys a little bit of everything. Though, he is most impressed by classic music, something that involves an entire orchestra to produce.
CLOTHING STYLE: He likes heavy, comfortable clothes the most. He is also a fan of clothes that already come as a set, no need to worry about styling at all! That being said, he can never get over the need to "look the part", whatever it means to him in the moment. Mostly the need to look somewhat neat even when getting comfortable.
---
TAGGED BY: @stillresolved
TAGGING: @moonlessnight125 (For Moon?); @thedoctornumber11; @themxtleycrew (Ema + someone you are really dying to talk about :3); and YOU. Take this and run away with it
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A soft whine escaped Sebastian as he rubbed the back of his head.
He was inspecting something on the floor. He was about to stand up and call for a forensic, but instead he hit his head on a cabinet’s door above him. The door closed on the hand of the police officer who had been checking the cabinet’s contents.
Both yelped in pain. Both jumped at Detective Barlowe’s voice. They shared glances, one teary-eyed and one concerned, wondering which one he was talking to. However, the detective continued and the officer sighed in relief and quickly retreated, leaving Sebastian to deal with the annoyed man by himself.
“I’m trying!” the prosecutor argued, feeling defensive.
He appreciated people being direct with him, but this guy’s brand of bluntness… He could almost hear ‘idiot’ at the end there in a familiar tone. Memories lit anew by Detective Barlowe hadn’t had the chance to go cold in the first place. Heaps of papers concerning his father’s… everything… awaited Sebastian at his desk even now.
Sebastian bent the baton in his hands and it creaked in warning.
“I didn’t exactly ask to be here…” he mumbled. Were they really that short-staffed that they couldn’t leave him alone for a moment to deal with things? Then he sniffled, sighed and pointed at Barlowe with his baton. “But since I’m here anyway! I’m trying! And! Um… I’m trying to figure out what’s here on the floor.”
❛❛ 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋. ❜❜ His demand sits brusquely atop his tongue, as if it were some breed of reprimand. An inexperienced forensic investigator has its perks, a wet-eared prosecutor who likely only managed to graduate from Themis thanks to his Daddy’s money though? Not so much. He quietly exhales through his nose. Frustration sours his mood. It bleeds into his voice, turning it wholly chastising, apt for schooling a misbehaving child. ❛❛ Let me be frank. People are on edge. First your father’s corruption scandal, and now this. Everyone’s running on fumes and I can’t say I’m happy you’ve been assigned to this case. ❜❜
› @legalbrats, plotted starter
#lupinoire#showing off the badge | ic#the best of the best | sebastian#[hmmm should i tag him the same as usual or think of a new tag for the bad version?]#[anyway welcome to my rp blog where I cannot condense my thoughts in anything shorter]
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3-5 things your muse can be identified by
REPOST don't REBLOG
Sebastian
Emotions/Feelings:
confusion; arrogance; self-doubt; determination; ambition.
Scents:
shampoo for kids; the wet grass and ground after rain; faint motor oil; a bowl of sweets.
Fashion:
old school uniform and the like; silk gloves; comfortable, cozy, convenient clothes; heavy sweaters, jackets, coats, anything that weighs on his shoulders.
Objects:
conductor's baton, phone with a stylus attached, prosecutor's badge; handkerchief; bright red jacket.
Greetings:
An introduction that is just a bit louder than it should be; a careful tap on your shoulder or a tug of your sleeve; a friendly "Hey!" with a wave; a very confused "Hello?"; teary-eyed stare.
Body language:
wide stances and grand gestures accompanying bold statements; retracting into himself when in distress; tears accompanying any mildly strong emotion; always fiddling with things in his hands; often tense shoulders when people are in his space.
Aesthetics:
oil burning on water's surface; puppets hanging on their strings; lightning hitting a tree in a thunderstorm; gold-plated prizes and medals rusting on a dusty shelf; an dark empty room with an open window and a rope made of sheets leading from the royal-looking bed into the bright outside beyond the window.
Colors:
White (FFFFFF); Violet Blue (2E4CA7); Russet (844E15); Engineering Orange (D70000); Selective Yellow (FFB300),
tagged by: @lupinoire :)
tagging: take it from me. Take it. And tag me in it :)
#paperwork | memes#the best of the best | sebastian#they call you crybaby | sebastian's musings#[Not me opening a thesaurus like 'what is the feeling called when you are smth smth']
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Take the bait, @edgelord-dl6
It was Klavier’s day off. Yet here he was, in the Prosecutor’s Office, in a room that didn’t belong to him.
The office that he occupied at the moment had almost nothing to do with him. His seat was way too practical. The wall behind him lacked his guitar collection. The desk in front him didn't resemble his speakers-turned-table in any way or shape. The room was far too tidy, even after a long time of no use. It was far too... perfect, some would say.
And yet. Klavier felt connected to this room. In a romantic sort of way. Both of them were abruptly abandoned by the same person.
The person who was supposed to come back today. The reason for why Klavier came to work on his weekend and sat in the empty room like a treat to lure a mouse into a cage. The target of his little trap.
Though, he made sure to leave giant glowing red signs warning of what was to come. A trail of breadcrumbs for one specific crow to pick on.
He didn’t ask for permission exactly. Rather, he informed everyone of his master plan. He sent the Chief Prosecutor a message stating that he would be in this office until its owner appeared before him. He told the security guard exactly why he needed the keys to the office of another prosecutor. He didn’t hide on his way there, greeting everyone as usual. He left the door open just a crack.
For one, he felt obligated to do so in order to avoid any more murderous incidents inside the Prosecutor's Office building.
As for two? Well, he had always been part showman. And all good shows needed build up.
And maybe he also wanted to give the person as many chances to turn and run away (again) as she needed. It would be disappointing if she ever took the chance, but Klavier was ready for that.
The familiar clicking of approaching heels filed in through the opened door.
The crescendo lit up his face with a grin. Truth be told, he mostly did it out of pettiness. However, the excitement of seeing her again was starting to overpower everything else he might have had on his mind.
The sound stopped abruptly.
He leaned on the desk with his elbow and propped his chin on his hand. His gaze was drawn to the door.
“Franziska von Karma,” he announced the arrival, giddy joy coating his words, “Willkommen zurück!”
#edgelord-dl6#showing off the badge | ic#glimmerous fop | klavier#no whipping nonsense | franziska#[teehee]
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Have you heard of Prosecutor Debeste? The son of the jailed Chairman of the Committee for Prosecutorial Excellence? What are your thoughts on him?
𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂, to be inquired about in such a fashion. Detective Barlowe, son of famed defense attorney Ronald Barlowe, cannot help but smile, privy to a punchline he alone knows. What is there to say about a boy who’s overshadowed by the deeds of his father? Without any accomplishments of his own, their relation is what defines him. He is but an afterthought, the tailpiece to an existence that has been locked away.
❛❛ I’ve never talked to him. Though I’ve certainly heard of his father’s corruption scandal. ❜❜ They all have, of course. ❛❛ I figure many eyes are on him in light of his father’s actions. They say the apple never falls far from the tree. ❜❜ His smile widens, wry, straining with the weight of knowledge. When your father has a great vision, you bend to it like a young tree exposed to a storm. Or you break under its force. What will become of this boy? ❛❛ We’ll see how much truth there’s to that. I for one won’t stand by idly should he get any funny ideas. This kind of tragedy won't repeat. Not under my watch. ❜❜
#lupinoire#[points excitedly]#[framing this on my wall]#[it's so cool how you decided to play with my wording!!!]#[I know the punchline too Mr Barlowe]#[EEEEEE]#[put them both in a blender and look at the smoothie in the labs]#[I need to know how much of it will be distinct]
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cigarette smoke trails the line of officers he’s equipped with weaponry so far while the less prepared vanguard pulls back to the cars. a sole, short figure in colorful clothes among bustling cops in uniform sticks out like a sore thumb … but seems to have no intentions to move away from the crime scene in spite of the rising threat. or no ability to. whatever. whoever yet remains must have the clearance to do so and his instructions are to supply ALL leftover players with a loaded gun each, as needed. that said, this boy has definitely missed his chance to make an exit, hasn’t he? it‘s his lucky day. welcome to the world of hyperrealistic target practice. he drops a beretta into the kid’s trembling hands without so much as a word and moves on. ( hey sebby :))
One saying goes as follows: “lightning never strikes the same place twice”.
Another legend has it that “the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime”.
That day Sebastian learned that both of these were wrong. To some extent. The lightning absolutely did strike twice, maybe even more than that. And while you could never be sure if the same criminal would ever return to the same crime scene, someone just as dangerous definitely had a chance of coming there.
A bullet barely missing him and his investigation team served as proof for those new convictions.
Everything went downhill from there. And Sebastian was advised to leave for his safety. However, despite the fear shakily coursing through his body, he hesitated.
The resistance had to mean they were getting closer to the truth, right?
A gun was dropped into his hands.
It seemed as surprised by the happening as Sebastian was. As if alive, it jumped out of his light hold. It slipped right through his silk-covered fingers a couple more times as he attempted to catch it.
Finally, he firmly secured it in both of his hands.
Then it hit him.
There was a gun in his hands.
He had never… At least, he couldn’t remember if he had ever held a gun. That probably meant he shouldn’t have a gun.
"Wuh- Wait!" He called after the person who had equipped him, but didn't move an inch. Honestly, he was scared to breathe. "You- I shouldn't- I shouldn't have this!"
How did he get into this?
#kataskopeia#showing off the badge | ic#the best of the best | sebastian#[who left the child alone with a gun]#[didn't we learn from the elevator incident]#[But thank you Mika]#[might make more separate posts on this as well]
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As the seconds ticked by, Klavier quickly went through another metal list of excuses. This time for why he should come in. He already picked his favorite and even started reaching for the tantalizing door handle, but the other prosecutor's voice finally reached him through the barrier.
Huh. Guess there was no need for pretending to think Herr Kaffeesuchti got murdered in his own office. Oh well.
"Bitte, the selection there is fewer than the number of colors for Herr Edgeworth's outerwear. And poorer than the air quality in this city." Klavier leaned on the door with one shoulder, still considering the handle… He decided he could play this game for one more round. A new smile made its way to his lips and reflected in every word, "Besides… I think I could use some coffee right now… And none of the generic blends that the break room Kaffeemaschine offers appeal to me." He sighed, adding a heavy layer of practiced sadness to his tone. "Truly a horrible happening…"
A nuisance at @kagoshou's door.
It was yet unclear whatever deity – whether heavenly or hellish in nature – decided to put the idea in Klavier's head that he and the local office coffeemaniac could be friends. However, it didn't matter much to him. Just like the slightest hint of foul play eroded his mind until he found the cause, the dimmest ray of hope fueled him to go along with his mission.
Besides, what was the downside of trying? It was a fun way to spend his time, no one was getting hurt and he would be fine with however this all ended.
And this was how he found himself knocking on the local ghost's door during the lunch break, an excuse ready on his tongue.
"Oh, Herr Kaffeesuchti!" he sang in a way that he knew annoyed most. He had to fight the urge to open the door as he said that, not chancing seeing something not for her eyes yet. "I am all out of ingredients for my drink of choice and I think it's time I try something new! I was wondering if you had any suggestions or solutions to my problem!"
#kagoshou#showing off the badge | ic#glimmerous fop | klavier#dead man walking | godot#[you better open up before he starts singing blues]#[or worse]#[the one song about doors and snowmen]
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@kamipyre's got a new subordinate!
Ema was on her way to the forensic department. It was a familiar route. One she had known since she was a teenager. One she had walked a million times for her job as a detective. But, for the first time, the path was leading her to her dream becoming reality. For the first time in years, Ema had a skip to her step and a giant smile on her face. She even warmly greeted the faces that she would have loathed to see just last week.
What finally getting the dream job did to a woman...
She giggled to herself at the thought, scaring yet another person she happened to pass. People had been avoiding this oddity. Some whispered to the other that Ema must have finally lost her mind.
Maybe she had. Maybe it was all a hallucination, too good to be true.
But as she pushed the door open, the cold metal on her warm skin, she had no doubt. It was real. She was finally living the dream.
She took a moment to really breathe it in. To enjoy it. To linger in the feeling of belonging.
She felt like a movie princess. She wanted to sing.
She sighed. And marched forward in search of the person destined to be her supervisor from now on.
Oh lord, no more stupid ‘macho’ police officers to look out for. No more stupid glimmerous prosecutors to pull on the leash connected to her badge.
“Good morning!” she greeted a little too loudly when she saw the scar dressed person the HR had described to her. She even saluted out of habit. “I’m Ema Skye! I’m sure you’ve seen me around whenever I’ve come for the forensic results as a detective. But today I’m transferring to your department! Pleased to finally work with you!” She offered a handshake with the same hand she had saluted.
#kamipyre#showing off the badge | ic#fräulein detective | ema#[oh lord i'll need a tag for your girl...]#[my girl doesn't know what she is getting into nor what SoJ has for her...]
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