#It's Poker Night (The Inventory Verse)

[watchingxover]

//Verses tag dump

[leeshajoy]

Last night i had a dream that Telltale made a third Poker Night at the Inventory game featuring the cast of Into the Spider-Verse. I’m a little sad that’s never going to happen, now.

[mobianresistance]

//verses tag dump

[artielittle]

               “Do you play cards?” Artie raises an eyebrow at Eric, dividing his attention between that and going through his inventory, doing mental maths, trying to remember every card game he’s ever played. Artie is from the old school of games, so he’s well versed in plenty of them. He still gets invited to poker nights. 

       “And also,” he stops moving and takes a drink from his glass. It’s strong. “I’ve forgiven you for biting my arm. It was against your will, I’m sure.” 

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  — @knockdovvn​.

[courthousegambler-blog]

Now that I’m remembering that Telltale Games video game called Poker Night At The Inventory, and its sequel Poker Night 2, I’m kinda thinking about having a verse for Shadow Sae involving something about either her casino competing with the Inventory, or maybe she’s a regular there.

[never-trust-anyone-over-30-000]

Drabble: Game Night

Verse: ;school-days (Hogwarts Verse)

Summary: Secret gaming night in the Room of Requirement

The Room of Requirement had played host to many secret functions over the years. The Maurauders had been frequent guests, as had been a group that was arguably a prototype of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, during the aforementioned wizard's own schooling years. Tom Riddle had briefly considered the place for his experiments in dark magic, before finding himself distracted by another secret room in the castle.

Tonight, the room was host to a group that called themselves The Big Three: Evey Lore (Hufflepuff), Aurelie Gilbert (Ravenclaw), and Edward Nygma (Slytherin). They were engaged in a tabletop RPG, something they enjoyed playing long into the night but were often hindered by prefects telling them to either go to bed or go back to their own house dormitory. After a disastrous attempt to hide within the Ravenclaw dorm (for which Eddie and Evey had received a detention, for "muggle dueling" with a prefect, and telling a prefect to "just call it fighting, dumbass", respectively), they had opted to sneak out and head to the hidden location.

For Evey, it was a simple matter of transfiguring to his snake form and slithering his way to the room, getting around the castle in the pipes. For Aurelie, they had brewed a potion to enhance her natural wallflower status; Filch had strode right past her on his nightly rounds, even muttering a brief "evenin' ". And Eddie relied on his natural skill with Arithmancy - using numbers to predict when his path would be clear, with only a disillusionment charm to fall back on.

For the Big Three, the room had altered itself into a comfortable gaming room, two shelves full of gamebooks against one of the stone walls and a rack of various medieval weapons - though they were firmly bolted to the wall, and upon closer inspection were apparently duller than dirt, but still helped with the ambiance. In the center of the room was a slightly more modern piece of furniture, a rather comfortable kotatsu, its tabletop covered with green felt similar to a poker table.

There was a clatter as the dice hit the board; Evey's eyes shifted to the rulebook. Tonight they were playing an adaptation of a muggle game that Aurelie had shown him, only an interesting reversal, comprised of the mundane and generic muggle dealings rather than those of the medieval fantasy genre. It was humorously dubbed 'Suburbs and SUVs'.

"You arrive at the cook out; Karen brought her casserole, even though you said you'd bring yours," Evey read off the prepared outline of the campaign that he'd jotted down, "How do you proceed?"

Eddie's eyes darted around the board, surveying the miniature pieces that represented their characters and the neighborhood that they sat upon, then to his own character sheet, recalling his abilities.

"A casserole?" Eddie asked, "What color is it?"

"Red and yellow, I guess?" Evey responded with a shrug

"How far away?"

"Uh...across the street from you?"

"And how big is it?"

"...well it fits into a standard oven?"

"Hm...I use the School Directory to determine if it moved here from a good neighborhood."

"No, Eddie, it's a casserole, it's not going to be in the School Directory," Aurelie chimed in

"...I call it on its sell-fone?" Eddie attempted, using one of the terms described in his character’s inventory

Evey glanced to Aurelie, knowing she knew Eddie better than he did, wondering if she knew it was another one of his deceptions, but the confused look on Aurelie's face told Evey that she was just as confused as he was.

"Nygma, it's a casserole," Evey emphasized, "It can't answer a cell phone." There was another clatter as Eddie rolled his dice; before they landed, he announced:

"I attack it with snide gossip."

"It doesn't work," Evey sighed

"But that was level 3 gossip!"

"Eddie, it's a casserole! Yes, you could destroy it by throwing it in Philip's pool or leaving it in Susan's artisan kiln, but I don't know why you would try, it's a fucking casserole!"

"...I retreat to my three-story seven bedroom ranch-style McMansion."

"Too late," Evey rolled his eyes, not even bothering to read from the campaign plan, "The casserole has turned PTA against you and you now have a meeting with the Neighborhood Association on Monday."

"What?! But I...?!" Eddie made several frustrating attempts to fathom the situation, cringing and glancing to the pieces and to the character sheet, as if he was in the midst of doing a complex calculation, but an eventual glance at the game's box art made him realize what he had missed, causing him to slump down into his arms, thoroughly embarrassed, "...a casserole is a staple food found at muggle cooking gatherings, isn't it?" was the mumbled realization that finally came to him

[lucanogis]

fic: to have and to hold - pt. i

Title: to have and to hold  Fandom: Gakuen Alice Pairing: Hotaru Imai x Luca Nogi Length: 5k Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a spy in need of money must be in want of a groom. Or: Hotaru wants to fund her inventions. A widow wants her husband's murderer. And Luca Nogi? Luca Nogi can't help but want the newest addition to his crew. // Part 2 in the GA-crew!verse, written for @ga-party‘s writing challenge: Wedding AU. 

{ao3} , {ffn}

Chapter 1: The Plan

Apartment 2B is wholly unsuitable to house a bunch of Japan’s most notorious criminals.

Not only does it come with ten discret neighbors, some of which not only share the building with them but actual room walls, it also lacks any of the equipment necessary for Hotaru Imai to create one of her masterpieces. Instead (and she has made it a point to take inventory of all the many useless additions to her new home) it has three separate gaming consoles, an added fridge for “cooking experiments” and a pet raven called ‘Mrs Rogers’. The roof, which is used for training or weapon storage, also features a fake palm tree and a hot tub the size of a small country. It is therefore completely unsurprising to Hotaru that Mikan decided to move in immediately after her first visit.

The far more complex question is why she has decided to move in as well.

It’s been roughly six months since Z, her former crew, chose to not only join The Academy, a merry band of ruthless murderers, but also unceremoniously oust her in the middle of a job. Luckily - or, if her best friend is to be believed, due to fate - she managed to team up with Mikan’s new crew to escape her own death. Said crew, named Nova by its founder and apparent leader (and Mikan’s idiot of a boyfriend) Natsume, has since welcomed her with open arms. It’s not too difficult for Hotaru to see why, given their apparent inability to budget.

But no member of Nova ever demanded that she join them in their apartment. Hiding made sense the first few weeks after her near death experience, sure. But Hotaru had somehow managed to keep her cover during the ballroom altercation and thus whispers of her joining a new crew had been, if anything, little more than an unconfirmed rumor. At first she’d woken up at night in cold sweat, wondering whether Z had sold her identity, whether they would come after her or any civilians connected to her, like her brother. But research had revealed to her that those who knew her by name had been disposed of as well. As such, that particular worry of hers has slowly but certainly vanished, leaving her to focus on her job.

More often than not, Hotaru keeps her hands and her mind occupied with weapon designs. She trains on the roof, getting to know each member of Nova and their unique skills. She goes on missions with them, always conscious of the distrust some still feel towards her and conscious of the distrust she can’t help but feel towards them.

The moments where her thoughts at last quiet down bring her the answer to her own question: Why did she stay in Nova’s apartment? Because, as incongruent as it seems, it makes her happy.

Of the eight, now nine, crew members Nova has, only six regularly live in the main apartment. The remaining two are scattered throughout the city, either by choice or due to an assignment. Hotaru has to admit she doesn’t miss their presence - being roommates with people that aren’t just Mikan is difficult enough. She has to deal with Natsume burning every meal he tries to cook, Misaki and Tsubasa being disgustingly in love and Luca Nogi being, well. A distraction at best and a threat to her sanity at worst.

Hotaru doesn’t pretend that Luca isn’t attractive. She certainly won’t deny that they’ve had sex in the goddamn hot tub she hates so much. And she won’t even lie and say that he doesn’t have the uncanny ability to make her feel calm, regardless of their turbulent job. But unfortunately for him, Luca has one glaring flaw: He is a spy, much like her. As much as Hotaru likes to fuck spies, she doesn’t fuck with them. It conjures up feelings in her heart and feelings conjure up memories; of darkness and blood and screaming until her throat grows raw and - Suffice it to say, she has no interest in attachments. Mikan is fine because Mikan has always been there. Nogi, however, is not a risk she is willing to take.

Hence they’ve agreed on a particular kind of relationship: Professionals, working together, who sometimes have sexual encounters in expensive bathrooms but who do not, under any circumstances, have an interest in anything more. Hotaru is satisfied with that arrangement. Romance, or the illusion of it, will never weasel its way into her life.

Naturally that doesn’t change the fact that only a week later, Hotaru finds herself standing at the altar, with Luca Nogi sliding a ring onto her finger and white chiffon caressing her skin.

Apartment 2B, Tokyo / April 3rd, 2am

“You need to buy the apartment next door,” Hotaru Imai says. She’s seated on one of the living room armchairs, comfortably basking in the final rays of the setting sun. Her best friend is out on a minor reconnaissance mission and she’s lounging in the living room with Natsume and Luca, something she would normally avoid but which has become necessary due to the simple fact that there is something she wants. “Either you do it yourself or I do it using your funds when you and Mikan are busy having alone time.”

“You’d think I get a choice in this,” Natsume Hyuuga, the Black Cat, comments, “given that this is my crew we’re talking about. And my apartment. And my money.”

“Funny,” Hotaru replies, leaning back and taking a sip of her wine. “I think I vaguely remember most of our funds coming in due to inventions I sold on the blackmarket.”

“She has a point,” Luca Nogi says. He’s sitting cross-legged on the wooden apartment floor, his pet raven picking seeds out of his hand. Natsume narrows his eyes at his best friend.

“You’re only saying that because she’s the only person in this apartment willing to play poker with you,” he declares. “Also, where did your loyalty go?”

“I imagine it’s in the hot tub,” Hotaru says. “You know, with the rest of our crew money.”

Natsume rolls his eyes, though with a sense of triumph she notices him wince at her words.

“You see then why I don’t have the money to buy the flat next to ours,” he says.

“I’ll take a job. Something nice and flashy,” Hotaru offers. “Come on, there must be something you’ve decided against that you can dump onto me. This is a simple trade, Hyuuga: You get to send me on a garbage mission no one else is willing to do. I get to use the money we make to buy another apartment and use it as a work space. It’s a win-win scenario.”

Natsume blinks. “When did you get so desperate?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hotaru says sarcastically. “Probably around the time someone decided to crap all over my laptop.”

They both turn to stare at Mrs. Rogers, who makes a caw sound before flying up to sit on Luca’s shoulder, half hidden behind his blond hair. Her owner grimaces.

“I did tell you to cover up your stuff if you’re not around,” Luca says. “And I also apologized. Like, fifteen times. Today.”

Hotaru rolls her eyes at him before turning back to the Black Cat. “Look, my reasons don’t matter,” she says. “You need an inventor and I can’t fulfill that role properly until you give me space I can actually work in.”

Natsume folds his arms. He looks less than happy about her demand. “Doing extra missions isn’t an option,” he says.

“Well, why not?,” Hotaru asks. “I’m offering to do them. I can handle danger and without proper equipment, that danger’s only going to get a lot worse for all of us anyway.”

“I get that,” Natsume says tightly. His demeanor changes as he squares his shoulders and narrows his red eyes ever so slightly. This is no longer a friendly discussion, she can tell. “But Imai, I don’t have the money to pay for that flat. And as for the missions you’re volunteering for, I decided against doing them for a reason. They’re not worth the risk. I won’t jeopardize this crew. Not for money and not for you.”

Not for her. Of course. With a sigh, Hotaru drowns the rest of her wine. Again and again, she finds that the Black Cat and her have similar end goals but very different opinions on how to reach them. Normally she would continue arguing but in this case she can tell that any further push on her part would only strengthen Natsume Hyuuga’s resolve. Promises of weapons and handy gadgets are apparently not attractive enough for him to take a risk on an operative, even if it’s just his newest one.

“Pity about that exploding pen I was going to build you,” she says casually. Years of spy training are the only reason she’s able to keep the frustration out of her voice. “See you tomorrow. I’m turning in for the night.”

Hotaru leaves her two companions behind, retreating to her room on the far side of the apartment. Once the door is shut behind her, she balls her hand into a fist and punches her pillow, once, twice, a third time. Only then does the anger licking at her throat subside a bit and give way to exhaustion. She drops down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow. Six months she’s worked with the Black Cat, but still he’s unwilling to trust her enough to take a few risks. If she wants to go on a more dangerous mission to earn a larger sum of money, who is he to try and stop her? And who is he to doubt her, to think that she hasn’t calculated the risks and rewards of her plan, hasn’t made sure that no harm will come to Nova?

It’s yet another reminder that Hotaru is still an outsider, much like she’s always been.

She blinks up at the ceiling, able to trace every inch of the plan she pinned onto the wall above the bed despite the room’s darkness. She’s working on an intricate fabric, more than five times as strong as the gear they’re using right now, and able to deflect most bullets. The delicate mesh is no weapon but a shield, one that will keep Nova’s agents out of harm’s way. If only she could convince Hyuuga of its merits, make him realize that the money he gives her is money well spent. Perhaps then the suit she’s working on would be finished and the dreams that plague her would disappear. Perhaps she’d no longer wake up wondering whether today is the day she dies, or even worse, whether today is the day Mikan dies.

But the fabric is impossible to make without a proper workbench and bigger tools and as such, it will have to wait.

Closing her eyes again, Hotaru turns to press her nose into her pillow. Yesterday she’d spent the night with Nogi, and the satin under her skin still smells softly of the cologne he was wearing. They’d come from a reconnaissance operation, his hair still tousled from running, and something inside her had quaked at the thought of doing anything other than kiss him.

So she had done just that.

Right here, in this room, in this bed in fact. She’d straddled his hips with her legs, feeling every inch of him beneath her as she pushed him deeper into the mattress, gazing down at his flushed face from above. He’s always blushing, Hotaru remembers thinking, strangely fascinated by the fact that everything he felt was immediately on display.

Sex is always fun for Hotaru. It’s a way to see anatomy in action, similar to watching her inventions do their job. The way muscle moves beneath skin, the way bodies fit together, the way nerves respond if she strokes them just right - The grip of his hands on her hips and the way she moved against him and he moved against her, their breathing labored as it had been when they ran from their pursuers but at the same time labored in a different way, another kind of fight, a primal kind of combat.

After, Luca had almost fallen asleep next to her, curled up on her covers, but Hotaru kicked him out as soon as she saw his eyes fall shut. He stole a kiss from her before leaving, a fast but heated one, something he always does when they sleep together. It’s almost too intimate every time, but she can never quite tell him to stop. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Even if he takes liberties now and then, she controls this little battle of theirs and they both know it.

Hotaru concentrates on relaxing her breathing, allowing the memories of their night together to once more fill her mind. Hopefully thoughts of more enjoyable times will chase away the fear that gnaws at her, the knowledge that one day their lack of money will result in one of them laying on her lap, gasping for breath as they slowly bleed out. Hopefully images of death won’t haunt her again.

Somehow, she doubts it.

Apartment 2B, Tokyo / April 4th, 8am

They’re sitting around the kitchen table the next morning when Natsume announces they’re going to have an impromptu meeting.

Hotaru is sipping her coffee, idly listening as Mikan recounts her mission from the previous night. Tsubasa is sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper with Misaki’s outstretched legs on his lap. Luca is in the process of making pancakes. He turns around at his best friend’s declaration, wearing a quiet smile on his lips.

“What are we discussing?,” Hotaru asks suspiciously. Is the Black Cat going to kick her out because she asked for more money?

Natsume grunts instead of answering. Luca turns to her.

“There’s a mission that we’re perfectly suited for, I think,” he says. “But we still have to vote on whether or not to take the job.”

This is another one of Nova’s oddities: Although Natsume choses which jobs might be suited for them, every member of the crew can veto an operation. It’s a democratic system, Mikan explained to her once. It’s also a hassle every time.

Luca dumps the finished pancake onto a plate and places them on the table. Tsubasa peeks over his newspaper.

“Breakfast done?,” he asks. Luca nods.

With a grin, the dark haired man gets up, unceremoniously dumping his girlfriend’s legs onto the floor. He sits down opposite Hotaru, Misaki following close behind. Once they’re all seated, Luca vanishes for a few moments before returning with a file. Generally, Hotaru would prefer technology over old school materials, but even she has to admit that hackable objects aren’t the best place for sensitive data. Natsume takes the folder from his friend and tosses it on the table.

“Client’s name is Yuki Arakawa, twenty-three years old, born in Nagoya. Met and fell in love with an investment banker by the name of Ichida Seiji when they were both twenty. Their relationship was reportedly great and so they decided to ruin it by getting married as soon as possible. They got themselves a team of event planners and ended up renting D-Lounge, over in Shibuya. Their grand day was looking to be perfect.”

Natsume pulls a picture out of the folder, showing it to the group. On it, a young woman grins widely into the camera, showing off an impressive diamond ring. A man is standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“What happened?,” Mikan asks softly. Natsume sighs.

“On their wedding day, a year ago now, Ichida suffered what officials say was a heart-attack. He made it through the ceremony, exchanged vows with his new wife and then collapsed on the dance floor. Medical examiner says the excitement of the day was literally...heart-stopping.”

“It’s not an uncommon cause of death,” Luca notes. “But autopsy reports do show that there was a foreign substance in his blood. When Yuki Arakawa asked the police about that though, they told her that her husband probably just tried to dampen his own nervosity by indulging in some….ah….illegal substances, so to speak.”

“Did he?,” Hotaru asks. A young, overly excited man taking drugs doesn’t seem too strange a story. Luca shrugs.

“It’s hard to say from the medical report,” he says.

“What matters to us,” Natsume interjects. “Is that his widow doesn’t believe the police’s story. She hired a private investigator to dig into the whole thing. And lo and behold, they found something.”

Luca leans back in his chair. With a quick glance at the folder in front of them, he continues.

“Turns out that Himawari Events Management, the company they hired to plan their wedding, have had a number of dead clients in the past two years or so. There’s been a handful of freak accidents, grooms or brides crushed by falling chandeliers, and a couple of strokes and heart attacks. Suffice to say, the whole thing is more than fishy. But when Yuki told the police as much, they send her away. Next day, a couple of goons cornered her on her way back from the cemetery, roughed her up pretty bad. They told her to keep her nose out of her husband’s case.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t,” Tsubasa comments, taking a bite out of his pancake. He leans forward to pick up the picture of the couple, looking at it from up close. “So someone’s making a game out of killing people on their wedding day? Jesus.”

“Presumably,” Natsume confirms. “What Yuki Arakawa expects us to do is find whoever killed her husband and… bring them to justice. She’s wealthy and the job comes with a nicely sized payment. However…”

“However,” Luca picks up where he left off, “This kind of mission would necessitate us going in undercover, scoping out the event planners. Our best shot is booking a wedding of our own and making sure to find the killer before one of us ends up dead.”

Mikan gnaws on her lip thoughtfully. “Natsume and I are pretty well known, as far as operatives go. And you said Yuki Arakawa suspects the murderer has ties to the police. If we show up looking to plan a wedding and they run any kind of background check, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

“Same goes for Tobita or Shouda,” Tsubasa adds. “They have their own cover identities to protect. We can’t exactly send them to find a killer who’s in league with the cops. As for me...” He glances at his leg, where Hotaru knows layers of bandages are hidden under the fabric of his jeans. “I’d volunteer, but I’m still not exactly in top shape.”

“Which is why I didn’t want to take on this job,” Natsume mutters. Hotaru can’t help but stare at him as surprise wells up from within her. So he’s given me one of the jobs he initially refused, she thinks, blinking in disbelief before composing herself.

“If Mikan and Natsume can’t go because their covers were blown months ago,” she muses out loud, “and Sumire and Yuu can’t go because their current identities are too precious to waste on this mission, then our only option is to send in people whose faces won’t get flagged by the cops and whose identity as agents is unknown to them.”

Luca inclines his head, quietly agreeing with her.

“Your cover is intact,” he says. “So is mine. We can go in as a couple, set up a wedding in the next two weeks and keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious.”

Hotaru finds herself nodding along. “Mikan and the rest can do an in-depth check from here, hack into the company’s business servers. The two of us -”

“Go in as bait,” Luca finishes. “I’m sure the client is willing to fund our wedding if it means she gets her husband’s killer.”

“And all we have to do is go dress shopping and show up on the big day,” Hotaru muses. It’s certainly a step up from getting shot at and crawling through drainage pipes.

A small smile makes its way onto her face. It works, this plan. They’re the right age for marriage and have certainly kissed enough times to sell the whole ‘young couple in love’ thing.

“Won’t two people getting married on such short notice seem weird though?,” Misaki asks. “I mean, I get that there’s shotgun weddings and all that but…Pretending you’re that into each other seems difficult. ”

Hotaru snorts. Getting Natsume Hyuuga to give her this mission was difficult. Surviving up to this point was difficult. Hell, even cleaning bird poop off her stuff was difficult. But pretending to be in love? Oh, pretending is something she has practiced for most of her life, something she has always needed to hide her bluntness and general lack of charm.

“I don’t think it’ll be an issue,” Hotaru says, allowing herself a smug grin.

Apartment 2B - rooftop, Tokyo / April 4th, 10am

After a unanimous vote in favor of accepting the job, Hotaru makes her way up to the roof with a spring in her steps. While it’s certainly true that a job tied to the police will be risky, she’s confident that they’ll have the murderer found and eliminated before any trouble arises. This mission will go wonderfully and it will finally, finally give her the money she needs. She pushes open the door to the roof and steps outside.

With a content sigh, Hotaru walks up to the balustrade and breathes in the fresh morning air. Her victory makes the spring day seem all the more enjoyable. Far below her, the city is bustling with activity, people running to go to jobs of their own, jobs that involve far less death than hers does. Far less excitement, too, she thinks to herself.

Creak.

Hotaru whirls around at the sound and comes face to face with Luca Nogi, his pet raven comfortably perched on his shoulder. His steps must have been silent enough to trick even her expertly trained ears.

“So,” he says. “We found you a job.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Hotaru mutters. “And...thank you, I suppose.”

“You were the one fighting tooth and nail for it,” he reminds her gently. “I did nothing, honestly.”

“Yeah right. Like Hyuuga would ever change his mind just because I asked him to. I can guess that you pushed him to give me what I want, so just accept my honest gratitude while it lasts.”

“I’m guessing I won’t be seeing your honest gratitude all that often, so alright. You’re welcome, Hotaru,” Luca says. He rests his elbows on the balustrade, watching her as she gazes down at the city.

“You must really want some new guns if you’re agreeing to a mission that could blow your cover,” Hotaru comments. He turns his head, a frown on his face.

“Or, you know, I just wanted to help you out,” Luca says slowly.

Hotaru snorts. Yeah right, she thinks. Why else would he defy his best friend for her? It’s not like they aren’t already sleeping together and if there’s one thing she has learned living in a world of spies, it’s that no one does anything without expecting something in return.

“But,” Luca continues, after a short pause. “You are also right about our equipment being bad. And you were right about our budget, too. We’re usually better at keeping it in check, but that’s generally Yuu’s job and he’s not around at the moment. I try to keep an eye on it but...numbers and maths aren’t my strong suit, I’ll admit.”

“Isn’t it Natsume’s job to look after the money?,” Hotaru asks. Luca’s face darkens.

“Natsume has enough on his mind,” he says softly before shaking his head. He reaches out to touch her elbow, turning her gently towards him. “But anyhow, I came up here for a reason.”

“Oh yeah?,” Hotaru says. She has a pretty good idea of what he means by that. Pushing away from the balustrade, she begins walking backwards until she feels the edge of the training mat at her feet.

“We can certainly have a little morning training session. Some close quarter combat. I’ll win, but hey. You get to watch me move.”

This is the part where Luca walks towards her, lets his hands rest on her hip. The part where he kisses her until they tumble onto the mat, their legs wrapping around each other. He wants her, she can tell by the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly and right now, she wants him too, wants to feel the bare skin of the man who is currently helping her get the money she needs. But Luca only blinks at her, his cheeks coloring. He clears his throat.

“As nice as that sounds, I came to ask you a question. I….That is, you….Do you….”

“Do I what,?” Hotaru interjects impatiently. Luca opens his mouth as if to talk, before stopping himself again.

“This isn’t how it’s done,” he mutters, more to himself than to her, before turning around, his blue eyes trailing across the roof.

Hotaru watches him, annoyance rising up within her. Not only isn’t he joining her at the mat, now he can’t even answer her question? She’s about to leave when he seems to find whatever he is looking for. With purposeful steps that make Mrs. Rogers fly up from his shoulder and seek shelter elsewhere, he walks to one of the many tables she’s scattered machinery parts on. He rummages around before grabbing something and turning back towards her.

“My mum did raise me to be a gentleman,” Luca tells her. “Obviously her teachings didn’t always take, I mean she once said to never use violence and to never steal or kill and honestly, now that I think about, she told me not to do any of the things that are now my job, but -”

“Nogi,” Hotaru says icily, interrupting his rambling. “Get to the point.”

“Right,” Luca says. He takes a deep breath and comes closer, until there is little more than a hand length of space between them. Then, he does something that shocks Hotaru.

He gets down on one knee. “Hotaru Imai,” Luca asks, “Will you marry me?”

Out on a rooftop in April, shivering slightly in the cool morning air and wearing yesterday’s hoodie isn’t exactly how Hotaru expected to be asked that particular question.

“This is a job,” she reminds him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“But I want to,” he says. “So, will you marry me?”

The sincerity in his voice merrily skips over all her walls, jumps past all the parts of her mind dedicated to assessing each situation and lands squarely on her heart, making it tighten in her chest. But no, this isn’t, this can’t be sincere. This is part of the act, Hotaru thinks.This is getting into character. She puts on a saucy smile and offers him her hand.

“Why yes, I will” she says, with a brightness that has little to do with the anxiousness she feels.

Luca reaches out, delicately taking her hand in his. His skin feels warm, clammy almost. As though he’s legitimately nervous. With his other hand, he produces the object he picked up from her work table and slides it onto her finger. It’s cool metal, shaped not quite like a ring, more like a hexagon. A steel nut, something meant to hold her screws in place when she fastens multiple pieces of an invention together. She must have left one lying around. Somehow, despite its less than ideal shape, it fits her finger perfectly.

“It fits you,” Luca says, echoing her thoughts. He clears his throat and gets up again, still holding her hand. Then, he lets her go and steps back again. There is a peculiar look on his face, as though he can’t decide whether the metal on her finger makes him happy or sad.

“I guess we’re engaged now,” he says.

“It would seem that way,” Hotaru replies.

With a curt nod, Luca leans forward. His lips brush her cheek, gentle enough to be little more than a feather caressing her skin. Somehow, the touch still manages to make her shiver. Hotaru wonders whether her pupils are as dilated as his were before, whether her desire is clear on her face. It probably isn’t, she thinks. Outwards expressions of emotion were never her thing. But this is acting, after all. She lets herself smile, expecting to see the same expression on Luca’s face as he draws back. Instead, his usually happy eyes are curiously blank.

“Have fun with your morning training,” he tells her, before turning around. The rooftop door falls shut behind him and Hotaru is left alone next to the training mat.

There is a strangeness to the whole situation that she can’t place her finger on. This morning, after realizing that Natsume had given her a mission because Luca pushed him to do so, she’d felt a gratitude towards him that was difficult to put in words. And then he’d agreed to enter into this fake marriage with her, to pursue the killer and finish the mission by her side. Despite her insistence that they not grow attached, he’d done his utmost for her.

She finds herself staring at the improvised ring on her finger. When he first gave it to her, it was still warm from being kept in his palm. Now the metal is cold. Hotaru pulls up her shoulders in an attempt to let the feeling of wrongness slide off her back but it sticks like oil to her skin. Still, she forces herself to smile. The money she needs is so close, she can almost smell it and her brand new fiancé’s behaviour can’t dampen her excitement.

There is however one thing Hotaru can’t help but notice: Somehow, getting engaged to Luca Nogi feels less intimate than all the moments they shared before.