Following Orders
She was always telling him to do things. Which was normal. Gumshoe was used to doing as he was told. He was very good at following orders; even the Chief himself had noticed and commended him on it.
"Scruffy, fetch me the book on international law from the top shelf."
"I have run out of tea. You must prepare another pot."
"You fool! This desk is not nearly clean enough. Polish it again until you can see that foolish face of yours in the reflection!"
He flinched at the sharp crack of the leather whip through the air, but held his ground. It would have been worse to run away, he reminded himself. Franziska Von Karma was not a woman that one could run away from: no matter how well hidden he thought himself to be, she always managed to find him. And the punishment was invariably more painful when he resisted, anyway.
"Y-yes, sir! R-right away, sir!" he stammered, throwing up a quick salute and going back to cleaning the prosecutor's office. Things were so different now that Mr. Edgeworth had returned to Europe. . . He sometimes wished that he could have gone with him to help investigate cases in Germany, too. At least then, he wouldn't be here, doing the things for Ms. Von Karma that he used to do for Mr. Edgeworth and wondering why it felt like such a deep betrayal. They were the same mundane acts, the same small kindnesses, but instead of being met with indifference or just ignored, she whipped him and called him names for his trouble.
Maybe he was doing them wrong? But even though he had learned how to make tea with some efficiency – "I suppose that you're not completely useless, after all. . ." she had murmured into the hot liquid whenever he was tasked with refilling her cup – he never felt like it was good enough for her.
What else did he expect, though? She was a Von Karma and Von Karmas demanded perfection. Dick Gumshoe was perfectly mediocre.
"Scruffy?"
Gumshoe froze, standing rigidly in front of the filing cabinet where he had been putting away last week's case notes. He had his back to Ms. Von Karma's immaculate and shiny desk, and he could feel her eyes on his back like two lasers boring deep into his skin. The detective swallowed hard. "Yes, sir?"
"My office is neither hot nor cold, but adjusted to be the perfect temperature for working diligently with one's full concentration on the task at hand. Remove your jacket immediately."
"Sir?" he half-turned to glance back at the younger woman over his shoulder, a confused expression on his face. Ms. Von Karma had returned her attention to the paperwork in front of her, but at the title, she looked back up with a glare. Their eyes met.
"Do not. Make me repeat myself, Scruffy."
"Y-yes, sir!" he set the rest of the folders down on top of the cabinet and quickly did as he was instructed. It was an odd order, he thought as he folded his worn detective's jacket over the back of one of the chairs in Ms. Von Karma's office. She must have been worried that he would overheat, or something, which was really considerate of her. But it was December, and there was snow on the ground outside. . . Gumshoe decided not to worry about it too much. He went back to putting away notes and report summaries.