FOR ANYONE WHO HAS NOT FINISHED ARZAN LEGACY, THIS CONTAINS SPOILIERS! Thank you and enjoy!
He caught her by the elbow, saving her from an unwanted meeting with the pavement. His grip was firm and steady and she used it to help right herself, grabbing hold of the arm clutching her own.
An apology was just leaving his lips for the mishap, but was unfinished once he realized who, exactly, was in his arms.
And all Descole could focus on, as he gazed upon the face of Emmy Altava, was that her hair was not its lengthy curtain of dark brown, but cropped short and just brushing her neck.
He never expected to run into her again. Literally or figuratively. It threw him off his guard so strongly that he had stared at her for a moment in open shock, before remembering where they were and who he was.
At least, who he was at the moment, as he adjusted his reading glasses and checking that his false features of a Mr. Francis Oliver were not askew.
The two were now seated at a small outside café, his treat for almost knocking her to the ground in his distracted haste.
"Really, now," Emmy stated earnestly. "You don't have to do this."
"I insist, Miss Altava." He said, smile charming and gentle.
She still looked reluctant, but didn't protest further.
"It's Emmy." She mentioned offhandedly, finally deciding on a small coffee and a muffin.
She didn't see the way his hands curled in and his shoulders stiffened. It was too close to a memory from a previous first meeting with her.
"May I ask, Miss Emmy…," Descole started slowly, getting himself back into his character. "What you are doing so far away from home?"
Her surprise and suspicion was evident as she looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You're a Londoner, are you not?"
She didn't say anything for a moment, trying to catch some type of trick in his speech or actions. He wanted to laugh, he wouldn't reveal himself that easily, he's had years of practice at hiding his emotions and true intentions.
"Yes…I am." Emmy said hesitantly, thanking the waiter as he set the coffee and muffin before her. "How can you tell?"
He adjusted his glasses once more, really enjoying his ploy to both distance her and bring her in.
"Your accent is very easy to discern." Here his smile turned teasing. "I also happen to follow your World Times articles."
Emmy's entire demeanor changed at this. She flushed lightly, laughing.
"Oh, well…" She scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I didn't realize I was that recognizable."
"I admit," he paused a moment to help himself think up something convincing for his lie. "I didn't realize it at first, but once I paid attention to the details, and heard your name I was able to come to that conclusion."
He was ashamed of the atrocious garbage that just came out of his mouth. However, she laughed once again and he guessed it was believable enough for her.
"It's not often I meet someone who praises me for my work." She said, face still dusted a soft pink from his offhanded flattery.
"I find that hard to imagine…" He couldn't help himself as he spoke honestly to her this time. "Your pictures are quite beautiful."
Her cheeks became redder and Descole finally comprehended he was outright flirting with her. This was both dangerous and safe territory, as he didn't have anything to lose, or gain, at this point. During his time as his Desmond Sycamore persona, there were moments where he let slip a compliment or two for her, her taking them in easy stride and even giving some back.
It was very different then. Both of them hiding something behind the smiles and words. Connected in a way he never would have expected.
But now, they were two adults meeting by chance, sitting and talking with each other as just regular people on holiday. Having sat here long enough to receive at least one refill each and cover several conversation topics.
It wasn't what he meant to happen. He was realizing quickly she was risky for him in too many ways and he needed to keep this as a friendly one-time thing.
"So, I take it you know of Professor Hershel Layton?"
The question threw him for a loop and made him pause once more to collect his faux identity.
"Yes, I believe I've seen him in the papers." He sipped his tea quietly, hoping he didn't show anything telling. He was a master at this! Why was it suddenly so difficult?
Emmy hummed her acknowledgement, drinking her coffee in silence. She was smiling in a matter that made him recall her sometimes mischievous manner.
"He sends me letters, you know…"
This seemed like odd information to share. Too personal, too private, to tell a random man she just met.
"He never asks if I've run into you or not." She said casually, sitting her chin innocently upon her laced fingers. "Luke hints at it once in a while, but doesn't ever truly voice his desire to know if you're still alive."
Descole didn't grasp he hadn't yet lowered his cup from his mouth. He was truthfully trying not to choke on his tea and tongue as she continued to grin sweetly at him.
He slowly placed the cup back on the saucer, expression soured. He felt like he had been lead along, and he had been. Blindingly so. It hadn't crossed his mind for a moment she was acting just as he was.
"How did you know?" He asked sorely, posture changing with the question. He sat less politely, less professional like as he folded his arms and crossed his legs.
"I'm sorry to say, but you gave yourself away." Emmy actually seemed apologetic as she spoke. Although she didn't elaborate on how he had.
"Besides, the Bostonius is easy to spot if you know where to look." She actually laughed as she stated this fact and he felt embarrassed that she was, in a way, laughing at him.
"And?" He questioned quickly.
She actually looked bewildered by this.
"And, what?" She asked back.
Descole didn't know if she was once again acting or truly clueless as to what he wanted to know.
"What now?" He enquired curtly. "Are you going to expose me?"
At this Emmy laughed in a more abrupt fashion than before. She actually had to clutch her stomach from laughing so hard, tears falling from her eyes.
He pressed his lips together, not appreciating her apparent amusement at his expense.
Once the young woman calmed down, he was astonished as she actually stood and began to gather her belongings. Was she really not going to…?
Emmy let out another giggle or two, placing her purse and camera bags on her shoulders.
"Tell Raymond I said hello, won't you?"
And with that she left into the sparse streets, before disappearing around a corner.
Descole felt both disappointed at her rapid departure and his own foolishness. He didn't see much reason to stick around this area, especially now.
The next morning he found a photo of himself, disguised as Franklin Oliver, taped to the door of the Bostonius.
It was obviously taken in haste, but still showed clearly his profile as he walked between groups of people on the street.
He flipped the photo over to find a note that made him frown in aggravation.
'I'll see you around! -Emmy'
Yeah! Got a Professor Layton fic done! This is actually going to be a small series of fics for these two cuz I absolutely love the idea of them running into and bugging the snot out of each other. I don't know how many I'll do, but I have an idea for at least 2 or 3 other ones. So, I hope everyone enjoyed and looks forward to more! :)