The moment of silence between them is comfortable, allowing the background noise to set the mood. Harry’s focus shifts, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the window. The sizzling HISS coming from the kitchen, and the chatter from other patrons behind them.
PERCEPTION [HEARING] – The old couple three tables down is arguing about the food. “It tastes like cardboard.” the old woman complains. Across from her a man – presumably her partner– sighs softly, reaching out a wrinkled hand to rest it upon hers. “It’s the same as it’s always been, Agheet,” he whispers gently.
SHIVERS – An ageing balding man leans over a hot stovetop. Spatula scraping food around on top of it, restless and incapable of stopping. Further back in the kitchen, a lanky teen skulks around the sink. He is half heartedly doing the dishes, sighing every few seconds whenever a breeze wafts through the open window just above his head. It carries with it the scent of rain, cold air, and smoke. He’s off the clock soon, his friends already waiting outside. They’re huddling near the door in an attempt to shield themselves from the rain, smoking a pack of stolen cigarettes to pass the time.
It beats the silence of his apartment – the entire place as dreary as it is cold. Large and empty while at the same time too full of trash. ‘A dead place for the desperate and suffering,’ the softest of the dark voices in his mind helpfully supplies. Bubbling up from just below the surface. ‘You know it, Harry-boy’. With a shudder, his gaze flicks to Kim’s hands, watching the dew on the outside of his glass settle against supple leather.
ENDURANCE – None of this self-pitying shit tonight.
Right. No use in letting any negative emotions take the lead here. Kim decided to join him here on their evening off. Just to do, what? Enjoy the detective’s company?
SUGGESTION – You’re like his cigarette habit. A small indulgence of which the boundaries are worth testing, but never worth breaking.
Harry exhales softly and settles back against the plush upholstery of the seats of their booth, finding it impossible to keep himself from smiling when faced with the lieutenant’s smirk.“I’m totally a superstar-cop. You’ve seen me perform. Everyone at the Whirling adored my song.” Sure, part of him is playing along – but it’s not just playing along, now is it?
DRAMA – You were born for the stage – belting out ballads not only about the vast inner workings of your very being. Combining it with your talent for solving crime to dazzle them all. Truly, Sire, your capabilities cannot go overlooked. You deserve an audience! A crowd to gaze upon this beacon of pure talent.
CONCEPTUALIZATION – It’s good to have a dream. So keep dreaming.
Ah, but there it is; genuine praise given to him by the one person whose opinion has come to mean the world to him. Harry preens under the compliment. Not a doubt in his mind about Kim’s sincerity. “ High praise, coming from the 41st finest. You bet your ass I’m going to enjoy this.”
One of the servers comes up to their table before he has a chance to say more, her presence softening away the edges of smugness that had crept into his smile, beaming a little less as he turns to face her. The young lady couldn’t be older than 25. A face full of freckles, and brown hair pulled up into a messy bun – too many strands of her unruly locks threatening to escape the hair tie. Her tone’s chipper and bubbly. Customer service mode: engaged.
“Here you go, officers! Enjoy your meal!” Their plates are gently set out in front of them. She looks to be taking quick stock of their drinks situation before taking a step back. “If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to call me over.” With her script sufficiently rattled off, she takes her leave, making a beeline for the front of the diner to help other patrons.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Brother, that shit smells good. And you are STARVING
Harry’s meal smells devine to him. A large double stacked burger sits in the middle of his plate, cheese and sauce oozing from between bun and patties. It sits in the middle of a circle of fries, and the world’s most pathetic side salad that will be ignored. Greedy hands grab the burger firmly, holding it carefully above his plate as he leans in for a bite. God, it’s so good.
Mouth still full of food, he hums his satisfaction ( a sound bordering far too close to a moan. ) before swallowing it down. Now that the craving is dealt with, there’s time to respond.
EMPATHY – Is it just me, or does the lieutenant look…sad?
“You, uh. You don’t mind being stuck with me then?” Stupid question. The answer was just established. “Forget I asked that — I’m glad you got my back. Especially with the paperwork. I would be working overtime for an eternity if it wasn’t for you. Like tonight.”
VOLITION – Good, lighten the mood again. No damage done.
Actually, Harry does have a point there - his performance back at the Whirling had been quite extraordinary on many levels and even surprised Kim, a man who has seen (and heard) a lot of things during his 43 years of existence.
However, it had been the first time for him to watch another Officer of the RCM feel the urge to sing a song in the middle of trying to solve a case. But... everything happens for the first time at some point, apparently, and it includes experiencing a man like Harrier Du Bois finding back to himself after having almost killed his own being in what must have been a true manic episode, filled with depressive thoughts and the urge to end the mysery he’s felt with the help of Commodore Red and Speed.
Here they are now, though - sitting in a Diner, getting their food served, and the man is still alive. He’s sung the song of the smallest church while wearing a bow tie and a hilariously questionable robe, caused people to applaud him, dedicated said song to Kitsuragi (no one has ever dedicated a song to him before) before then, almost casually, finding out that the murderer they’ve been searching for had been an old man sitting on an island, the Insulidian Phasmid’s pheromones causing him to lose his mind with the years passing by.
Part of the Lieutenant still cannot believe it - all of it. That none of what he’s just thought of is just a fantasy but reality instead. That everything had amazed (and is still amazing) him so much that he agreed to even join Harry, become part of Precinct 41, leaving behind his own mysery he’s been stuck with for decades.
The sandwich that’s placed in front of him feels like it’s the most normal thing he’s experienced in quite a while - two slices of slightly toasted white bread, stacked on top of lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise, bacon, ham, onions, cheese and more lettuce to top it all off. It smells delicious, so does the side of chips it’s being served with; And yet, when Kitsuragi touches it, he’s almost surprised about being able to actually grab it, to bring it to his mouth and take a bite, the savory taste spreading across his tongue like a wildfire.
Perhaps Harry is a superstar cop - if not one that’s definied by norm, he’s something he’s defined for himself, made it a new reality and placed it into Revachol like it belongs here. Harrier Du Bois, Double-Yefreitor, singer and actor, living the smallest church before hunting down whoever has killed their last unfortunate body that they’ve found just a few hours ago. Jamrock-shuffling his way through private property, accidentally discovering new species of animals and insects, taking on side-cases to go along well with his main-cases, serving them on a silver platter for Kim Kitsuragi to gaze upon with a mixture of awe, wonder and disbelief.
This is his life now. Kim’s life. He’s part of it, and sometimes - like right now - it overcomes him like a wave, causing him to take a break and breathe through as he tries to sort his mind.
He’s never met a man like him, someone who fascinates him so much on so many levels.
Is that a dangerous thought to have?
Kim already knows where it might lead him to, and he’s afraid of giving that possible destination a name just yet. Leaving that part blank within his imaginary notebook.
“---Don’t think you’re off the hook, Detective. The paperwork still exists, and one day you have to tackle it all.”
Dark brown eyes flick back over to his partner, accompanied by another hint of a smile that’s meant for only Harry to see, tugging at the corners of his full lips. Gloved fingers bring that glass back to his mouth then and Kitsuragi takes another sip of the liquid in between chewing, then takes another, large bite from his sandwich, his appetite big after not having eaten much for the whole of the day.
“I might let you get away for now - but don’t mistake my kindness for a way out. I’m still keeping track of all the files that are stacked on top of each other, HDB written onto them, waiting for a diligent boy to fill them out and finally finish them off after years of neglect.”
Oh, and said diligent boy won’t be Kitsuragi - oh no, he won’t take that weight off of the Detective’s shoulders.
But perhaps he’ll be by the poor man’s side, bring him a coffee every now and then. Maybe even a snack, if Harry behaves well - a bag of chips, some gummy candies or a Kebab.
... Yes, Kim actually has already done some of said paperwork, finished it himself, but... he won’t mention that. He knows that Harry knows, a secret shared between them. That doesn’t mean that the other doesn’t have an ass full of workload ahead of himself still waiting at the Precinct.
A pair of nostrils flare briefly and Kim inhales, then exhales, smile fading for a moment as his gaze turns a bit more serious. There is no need for him to say what he’s going to say, but... for some reason, he feels like he has to voice it out loud once more. Make it a reality for the two of them:
“---And no, Harry. I do not mind about being stuck with you - because I am not. I could leave whenever I want, but I don’t.”
That’s it, however. He won’t speak the rest out loud.