Leon had given D an hour when he only seemed to need a minute. [Series of four drabbles]
He'd been surviving on chances for longer than he cared to think about.
'Be there you asshole,' pounded through his head with desperate fury. 'I chased you half way across the world the world so you'd better-'
Despite himself, he stopped at the door, resting his head against it.
/'Please. Just... Please...'/The door was unlocked.
The shop was empty.
Half a cup of tea was cooling on the table. The pot was a shattered pile of wet porcelain on the floor by the phone. The receiver itself was swinging lazily on its cord.
The curtain to the back of the shop had almost been ripped off the rail, revealing nothing but darkness and grey sunlight flickering off bare pipes.
Leon jerked out of his slump against the doorframe. Kicked the door. Searched the shop. Stormed out to question witnesses, hands clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles had gone white."No, I haven't seen the Count today."
"Count D? His shop's back the way the way you came -"
He should've known. He should've known better than to get anyone from China Town to help him.
"Why are you looking for the Count?"
"Excuse me, sir, but I have customers to tend too. Perhaps if you come back tomorrow -"
He'd bet his (nearly used up) pension that D put them up to it if he'd thought the bastard had time.
It started to rain as he headed back to his hotel - a cold, heavy drizzle that soaked him to the skin in no time.
He suspected that was D's fault too.All he wanted was a shower, a cigarette, and a beer IV. Not necessarily in that order.
He wanted to beat the shit out of D too, but that was about as likely as the beer IV. Cigarette and shower though? That he could manage.
Leon shrugged out of his jacket, cigarette at his lip, fumbling for his lighter with one hand and the light switch with the other, grumbling and half blinded by the harsh light. Then he got his arm free and lighter free and actually looked up at the room.
The sodden jacket hit the floor with a smack, his lighter with a crack, and the cigarette threatened to follow their example and drop from his suddenly slack mouth.
D's face went a little whiter as he rose from his perch at the end of the bed, hands clasped before him a little tighter. "Good evening, Mister Detective," he said, with a casualness in his tone that his expression - wariness and hunger being hidden behind one of D's expressionless masks - couldn't hope to match.
But there was something definitely shaky about his voice when he said "I believe the phrase is Long time no see."