A/N: Okay, before you Lucifendi fans get the torches and pitchforks, I meant for this to be a friendship fic, but it can be interpreted in any way you want. Just wanted to get that out of the way first. I am aware that I'm probably throwing rocks at a hornet's nest, but hey, who hasn't done that? Reviews appreciated :D
Oh, and I'm rating this T because I describe one murder in here. Other than that, it's basically rated K.
Yup, I know that not a lot of people like HildaxAlfendi, judging from the sheer amount of Lucifendi on here, but you can't deny you feel sad for Hilda at the end. Mostly, though, the reason I'm writing this is because I wanted to write 'Potty Prof' in a mood other than 'pissed off' and make him seem in character at the same time! (Which could be close to impossible...) Anyways, tell me if I succeeded or not.
And please please please don't flame the witch (me). I like breathing, but if you do, just take note that I will magic the flames into a bonfire in which I will toast my marshmallows on. And I won't share :D. So without further ado, let's read the story!
"Alfendi!" a voice snapped.
"What?" he snarled back, looking up from his report, pen in hand. His eyes, feverishly bright, were accentuated even further with the dark circles underneath them. He narrowed them when he saw a familiar figure in his doorway and made a visible effort to calm down. "Oh, Hilda. Can't you see that I'm working?"
"Yes, I can," she responded testily. She walked up next to him, peering at his report, grabbing her long blonde hair so it wouldn't get in the way. "The writing tends to give it away. As well as the snappish behavior." She rolled her eyes wearily. "I was told by the Commissioner to bring you some lunch. Seems you haven't been eating recently." She thrust a plastic bag towards him.
Alfendi sighed, completely exasperated and threaded a hand through his messy red hair. "How many times do I have to tell those idiots that I can't eat lunch now. Just, these killings," his eyes shone brighter still with fascination. "These 'Jigsaw Puzzle Killings', they're too exciting to stop for anything, anything at all. Come here, look at this," he said, apparently forgetting about the grudge they'd held since last week about whether or not the forensics team were being paid too much for their own good.
He flipped back through his report. Hilda sighed, but decided to humour him. She took a look at the pages. "This is a new one. A woman was found stuffed inside the refrigerator of the Stiffin Abattoir. Delightfully macabre already, wouldn't you say?"
"Alfendi," Hilda said in a patient tone, the kind you use for small children. The one that annoys Al the most, she thought with a smirk. "I was there at the meeting along with you. In fact, I sat right next to you. I know about the murder too."
He looked temporarily confused, a rarity for Al. "Oh, yes, you did." He stood up abruptly. "Maybe I should eat something," he said sheepishly. "Give me that."
She gave him the bag, staring. "Are you… okay?" she asked tentatively.
He scoffed harshly, possibly to make up for the moment of vulnerability from before. "Of course I'm okay, Hilda." He dug into the Chinese takeaway and plopped back down onto the seat, turning his chair to face his desk. "The food's terrible," he said absently.
"It's your favorite. Are you insulting your taste?"
"No, I'm simply insulting your tastes in restaurants."
"Fine," she snapped, suddenly exhausted. "Sorry for ever being concerned for you."
He froze.
"Al?"
"The Commissioner didn't ask you to take lunch down for him, did he?"
"I don't know what you mean." She crossed her arms, leveling an icy, intimidating glare at him.
He wasn't even affected. He slowly spun his chair around, all the while matching her glare stare for stare with those piercing golden eyes. "Don't lie to me," he said softly.
She sighed irritably. "Fine, maybe he didn't. What about it?"
"Why would you care?" He seemed genuinely curious.
"Al, you are way too engrossed in this. At least get some sleep," she pleaded. "Looking at you, I don't even think you slept last night."
"Not since the night before, actually," he said nonchalantly.
"Look, you can't solve anything running yourself to the ground like this. Sleep, eat and forget about this case for a while."
"Why?" he repeated.
"Well, to live for starters. If you don't want the food, I'll be happy to give it to Justin. He'll be flying out the window with joy."
He unconsciously clutched the takeaway box harder. That proves he was hungry, she thought, satisfied. She turned to leave, but once again, Alfendi asked, "Why?"
She turned back. "Because I care for you, you idiot."
Alfendi watched as she walked out the door.
"Did she just call me an idiot?" He growled indignantly. "That arrogant woman…" It took him a while to realize he was smiling.
