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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Layton Brothers: Mystery Room
Chapter Summary: Lucy gets to know the "other Prof" a little better.
Word Count: 835
Rating: teen
Warning: discussion of DID; I've done some research but am not an expert, and also Alfendi doesn't fully understand his condition yet.
Spoilers: for the whole of Mystery Room
It’s clear Lucy’s taken aback before she even realizes that she’s talking to the original, because rather than her usual pleasant greeting she gets distracted. “What’s that smell? The kettle on?”
“Ramen, actually. I was making lunch.” It’s nice to be able to move and cook and talk again, nice to be able to insist on something healthier than the takeaway his other side eats almost exclusively. (Healthier, because he doesn’t use the cheap, plebeian noodle variety and toppings so common in the corner stores, and in general he’s a mean hand in the kitchen.) They’re still mulling over names to distinguish between the two of them. Oddly, the other had seemed to be much more relaxed about allowing him to take over upon learning he had hobbies, like cooking and reading mysteries and singing. Alfendi knew (both Alfendis knew), better than anyone, that these things did not prevent one from being a criminal, but they certainly made him human. (In fact, the younger ‘brother’ had been sad, at the thought, like the lack of these things made him nothing. At one time, that would have pleased the original, but at this point he just feels angry. If his slightly depressed shadow doesn’t have hobbies, then all they have to do is find him one, and in the meantime, he needs to stop whining about it as that’s doing no one any good.)
It’s a test run, really, letting him do as he wishes for a full day (hopefully with some sort of exciting case), and seeing if they can’t ease into some sort of working balance. He’d be lying if he said he (both of him) wasn’t nervous how Baker would react, but the best thing to do under these circumstances is act normally.
She startles slightly. “Eh? Potty Prof?”
“Don’t call me that,” he snarls dangerously, and instantly reins himself in. Not his other side, him. He was capable of self-control, thank you very much, and the point of this wasn’t exactly to scare her away, more, well. She was a grown woman capable of making up her own mind, but she wasn’t possessed of all the relevant facts. “It’s demeaning, and, well, you wouldn’t want to have to sit through one of the departmental sensitivity trainings. They’re boring as all hell.”
She frowns for a moment before understanding his meaning. “Oh, I’m sorry. You should’ve mentioned it, if I were hurting your feelings.”
He clenches his fists, fortunately not visibly. “I—thank you.” It’s hard for him to say, harder still given the fact she’s barely familiar with this side of him. Currently, his frustration is slightly more self-directed, since he should have more to say than that but can’t quite find the words. Oh, it’s not as if he’d been the social butterfly, before, but he’d at least know what to say, even if others didn’t approve. Instead—no, maybe he should just cut to the chase. If this goes poorly, better sooner than later, correct?
“You should have been more informed—but, of course, the Puzzle Killings and my own successful case pleading self-defense despite my own objections were part of a departmental cover-up. All those who knew the truth were promoted, transferred, or sworn to uphold the lie, and the newcomers, like you, had only heard the rumors. Here.” He carelessly tosses a file at her, smirking as she barely manages to grab it. “Before you go on declaring you want to work with me, you should have a look. Go on, take a peek, it’s entertaining reading, even if most of the items are spent. Feel free to move at your natural snail-like pace. I should go remind the rest of the office their little respite is over and I’m back to terrorize them all.”
He swings his legs off the desk and with a mocking wave exits the room before Lucy really has the time to process much of anything.
That’s the point, she expects, once she can take a breath. He’d been meeting her gaze with a fierce, intense one of his own right up until he’d started talking about the file. His tone had been bored, and his stare had played into that assumption, but he’d stopped looking at her and never looked back. Couldn’t. And now she was looking for clues, his rate of speaking and tone had risen, almost imperceptible if she hadn’t been looking closer. He’d been nervous. No so nervous, though, that he hadn’t remembered to turn off the little stove before exiting at quite the pace.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” she comments idly, but it’s interesting. He hadn’t been lying about not being the monster they’d believed him to be. A monster wouldn’t have cared, either about her opinion or to actually give her a choice. She spoons the noodles into a clean-looking bowl and settles down to read. If he takes too long, she’ll eat them and pay him back somehow; better food not go to waste.
