Cut from the same cloths, they'd either kill each other or love each other like no other. Either way, they were doomed.
Mikan slid out of the car doors "You'll let me know if you get anything from Persona"
"What are we? Partners now!"
"That's right. Call me." She slammed the door and walked to the hotel office, giving Natsume her best back show.
If she was sixteen again, and he was seventeen, he would gun the engine and peel out. But she wasn't sixteen. He wasn't seventeen. She was twenty four with missing mother and sister and only a month of severance between her and the streets. He was twenty five, a detective who has seen human depravity in all its many incarnations. Still, she'd bet her last year of decent dividends that as he eased the unmarked vehicle into traffic and pulled smoothly away, he was smiling. Just like her