Professor Sycamore pored over his maps and notes, his faithful companion Raymond at his shoulder as usual. He sighed as he made another note, mildly frustrated. He had thought he found what could be a promising lead on the Azran—something about a phantom town—but it had turned out to be nothing. A shame, really. Now he had heard nothing new, not even so much as another rumor that may or may not be relevant, and he was back to square one. It was always a challenge to find information on an ancient civilization that was thought to be nothing more than legend. As it was, he had no idea where to go or what to do next.
"Might I make a suggestion?" Raymond suddenly spoke up.
"Go ahead, Raymond," Sycamore replied. Raymond didn't always try to give advice, but when he did, it was usually both exactly what he needed and exactly when he needed it.
"It's not always necessary to move on immediately. Sometimes it's best to take your time," Raymond suggested sagely.
Desmond considered Raymond's words for a moment before admitting, "You're right. Let's take a day off."
Raymond allowed himself a smile. Desmond Sycamore worked too hard sometimes, driving on for months without taking a break. Raymond did what he could to ensure his master occasionally did something other than constantly try to discover the secrets of the Azran.
=^w^=
Two and a half games of War later, Desmond glowered at his tiny pile of cards and Raymond's nearly-full deck as he placed his next card, a six. Raymond's next card, also a six, went next to it. Each one laid down three cards face-down—Desmond's stack of cards was getting dangerously low—and one face-up. Both were twos. Another three cards face-down for each. Desmond smirked as he placed his last card, a king, only to see Raymond play an ace, winning all of the cards and the game. Again.
"I've half a mind to accuse you of cheating," Professor Sycamore muttered.
"Cheating? I assure you it's only luck, master," Raymond insisted innocently.
"I hardly believe starting with all the aces three times in a row is just 'luck'," Sycamore said with an ungentlemanly snort. "Why are we even playing such a silly game? Give me those." He snatched up the deck of cards and shuffled them before making several stacks, of which he told the other to "Pick three." He then removed all but the chosen three and stacked them separately before asking Raymond to pick two of the remaining stacks. He flipped the top card of each of these—an eight and a nine. He then counted out seventeen cards from the largest pile of cards, and then another ten, and then counted the remaining cards.
"This is a five," Desmond declared before flipping the top card of the final stack, revealing that it was, in fact, a five.
Raymond nodded, impressed. "Very nice."
Desmond gathered the cards and shuffled them again before making three columns and five rows of face-up cards, asking Raymond to pick a card and tell him which column it was in. After the butler had done this, Desmond scooped up the cards and rearranged them in the same three columns and five rows. "Which column now?"
He repeated this a few times before arranging the cards, now face-down, into three groups of four and one of three. "Pick two," Desmond said then, removing the two groups Raymond indicated, then "Pick one," removing the opposite one this time.
There were then four cards remaining, two resting, parallel, on the coffee table, the others on top and perpendicular to those. "Top or bottom?" Desmond asked before removing the bottom cards as Raymond chose them. He then asked his butler to pick one of the two remaining cards and flipped the chosen one, revealing it to be the ace of hearts.
"Is this your card?"
"It is," Raymond confirmed.
Desmond smirked slightly at this, even though he had known it would be so, as he gathered the cards and slid them back into their box. His earlier irritation forgotten, he dropped the cards back on the coffee table, deciding to read for a while. Observing the contents of the small bookshelf, he noted that all of the nonfiction books had been removed—Raymond probably did that so he wouldn't be tempted to do more research—and selected a mystery novel, one of his personal favorites. This should keep him occupied for a few hours.
=^w^=
A while later—Desmond didn't know exactly how long it had been, but judging by the small change in the angle of the sun it had been no more than a couple hours—the professor bookmarked his page and set the book down, stretching. He did enjoy reading, but even he couldn't stay focused on a book for that long, and now he felt the need to do something else. What, though, he was uncertain, and he hummed tunelessly as he contemplated this problem. He scanned his surroundings for an idea. The sewing machine tucked in a corner caught his eye, but he dismissed it as he recalled that he didn't have any fabric and he wasn't exactly in the mood to go shopping. He let out a frustrated sigh, which caught his butler's attention.
"Perhaps a joke to lighten the mood, Master?" the older man suggested.
"That's a wonderful idea, Raymond."
Raymond began, "Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too."
Desmond chuckled at this, and Raymond took that as a suggestion to tell another.
"A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named 'Ahmal'. The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him 'Juan'. Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, 'They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal.'"
Sycamore chortled more, deciding to try his own joke. As he had an idea but needed to organize his thoughts first, he grabbed a sheet of paper and a pencil, items which were plentiful on the Bostonius, and began to write. Raymond raised a bushy eyebrow at the scribbles but said nothing, having long since given up on trying to decipher his master's handwriting for anything that wasn't important.
Desmond soon told the butler what he had written. "Once upon a time there was a squirrel living in a forest. It made its home in a old oak. One day, though, it was alarmed to realize that the tree wasn't as healthy as it used to be. The squirrel rushed to the wise owl and asked him to take a look at the tree. The owl agreed and promptly examined it. 'Well, there's blight on some of the leaves,' the owl observed, 'and the bark is rotting away in places. In fact, you could say its bark is worse than its blight.'"
Raymond stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond to this… joke?
"Well?" Desmond watched him expectantly.
"Ah… Pardon me, Master, but I've just remembered I have something I must attend to," Raymond lied, quickly leaving.
Professor Sycamore frowned as his companion retreated, mumbling, "I didn't think it was that bad…"
=^w^=
Twenty minutes later, Professor Sycamore was bored and antsy again. He had become so accustomed to constantly being busy that it was quite uncomfortable to be doing nothing. He had tried writing a couple more jokes, but Raymond had not yet returned from wherever he had gone and so he had no one to tell them to. However, he realized, he could do something else with Raymond gone. He found the Beatles record he had hidden behind his wardrobe. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band. Perfect. He popped it into the record player with a smile.
When Raymond opened the door to peek in a while later, he was greeted by the scene of his master dramatically singing into a hairbrush.
"Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins
Silently closing her bedroom door
Leaving the note that she hoped would say more
She goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief
Quietly turning the backdoor key
Stepping outside she is free
She (We gave her most of our lives)
Is leaving (Sacrificed most of our lives)
Home (We gave her everything money could buy)
She's leaving home after living alone
For so many years (Bye bye)"
Raymond restrained himself from laughing as he eased the door shut. He would never embarrass Sycamore by saying so, but his singing was terribly off-key. He winced as the door creaked loudly—he knew he should've oiled the hinges—and Desmond's singing ceased, as did the music a second later. Raymond took a few steps back in anticipation of the door being flung open as it was within thirty seconds. Desmond's face was flushed bright red with mortification.
"Having fun?" Raymond inquired innocently.
"... Tell no one," Desmond ordered, though it almost seemed like he was begging.
"Of course, Master."
A/N: This is for Joyfulelf, to whom I'd like to give my most sincere apologies. I should have had this done a month ago, but I suddenly became very busy with school (and I'll admit I got distracted for a day by Layton Brothers Mystery Room). But now it's done, and it's not super short, and it's decent (I think). I hope you aren't too disappointed!
Sycamore's terrible joke was written by yours truly (It turned out even worse than I meant it to be, oops) and the song is She's Leaving Home by the Beatles.
Yes, the title is terrible, as usual. I'm sorry. I couldn't think of anything, so if anyone has a better title idea, please tell me!
If anyone has a request or suggestion, I'd love to hear it, even if it might take me a while to write it because I've got a dozen other things I
As a side note, I created a community dedicated to Desmond Sycamore. The link can be found on my profile, but be warned, even the name of the community is a major Azran Legacy spoiler, so if you haven't played the game you might not want to go there.
Review please?