#vllchr

[celestrot]

“Ranpo-kun.” Edgar waves. Perched upon his shoulder is Karl, who has a nifty cape tied around his little shoulders. They both stare expectantly. “Happy Halloween. Do you have plans?” He looks at Karl, then again at his rival. “There is a carnival in town. Cotton candy, candied apples, funnel cakes…” Also, a hay ride and a few fair games, which he wants to beat Ranpo at. Surely they could take this time for a competition, sweetened by the promise of food?

@vllchr !

Usually, Ranpo isn't one to bother eavesdropping, but the festivities have been the talk of Yokohama for the past few days at the least. Halloween (or rather, mostly the premise of having such a broad selection of treats to choose from) has had them bristling with excitement for most of the day. His responsibilities with the Agency were cut short today in time for the celebrations, and unfortunately the Police Department will have to cope with their amateur detectives on-scene while their star of the show is busy in fancy-dress and buckets of candy.

He wasn't going to go alone, of course, not when the carnival's layout and decorations have made the route even less recognisable to his poor sense of direction, but he wasn't planning for the fondest company ... until a more compelling choice of companion makes himself known. "Poe-kun!"

Grinning up at their rival, Ranpo's attention is stolen, as it usually is, by Karl's curious little snout peering over his owner's shoulder. He looks adorable and certainly well-dressed for the season trailing a little cape behind him. They scritch him between the ears and try not to light up so obviously, but the enthusiasm in their nodding is impossible to miss. "I know! I mean, who doesn't? It's all I've been hearing about, I've been waiting forever to go.

"I was gonna drag, like, maybe Akiko or Atsushi-kun to the carnival, or something... Shachō wasn't really interested." They look a little bothered by it. Folding their arms over their chest, though a touch too eager to pout properly. "But if you're offering...~"

Ranpo leans forward, tilting up on their tip-toes to scoop up Karl from Poe's shoulder. Though a little startled, he doesn't seem to meet their arms with any protests, and they curl their fingers through his fur to make up for it, anyway. Far too endeared by the little cape that hangs from the raccoon's shoulders, they have to remind themself not to handle it too much lest it come loose.

"How come Karl is all dressed up and you aren't? We should wear costumes! Everyone else is doing it."

[celestrot]

            Continued from here.               [ @vllchr ]                ⋯

This feels oddly akin to drowning, they think. There are brewing cirrus clouds in their ears, waves rattling their only means of stability, salt and brine filling their throat; often, at loud events like these, they feel as though they are trying to wade through a hurricane, and even they cannot best the eye of the storm alone. It's fortunate that they weren't entirely abandoned, although they aren't pleased by the fact that the majority of the group has vanished without a word… and they are left behind with their least favourite.

Jōno grasped for Tecchō's hand, yes, but they didn't expect such immediate retaliation. They only meant to latch on for a moment, just for some clarity they aren't granted on their own. But it interlocks their fingers and they try not to startle so visibly. Their furrowed brows, stiffness to their posture, and thinned lips pressed into a neutral line, speak plenty for them. Tecchō thumbs over their knuckles and it's weirdly reassuring. So they turn their head away and scoff beneath the volume of the music, a disgruntled, "tch."

Overwhelm is nothing new. Such is the consequence of having such heightened senses. He's awfully prone to irritation and a little lack of focus when the environment is too loud, which is mostly why they can't complain about Tecchō's company, especially on salient assignments. But this is a festival, not a mission -- they're less inclined to just deal with it when there isn't a price or consequence on the line.

Wordlessly, they allow themself to be guided to shore. They can breathe a little easier, and shudder free of every accumulated, sickening sensation, once the thick of the crowd has been left behind.

Offering only a hummed response that vaguely sounds like approval, Jōno turns away from the crowded space to leave the noise behind him. They've broken through to a clearer area now, yet he doesn't make any attempt to shake his hand free. Rather, he shifts his grip just a little, sliding down to hold Tecchō's wrist instead, and feel its pulse beneath his palm. It's a comforting constant, far more welcomed thrumming throughout their skin than the bass of the music playing.

"Can you see the others?" Jōno asks, sounding doubtful. Knowing them, the remaining Hunting Dogs are likely stirring up enough trouble on their own to blend in with these erratic attendees.