One rainy night in the middle of June...
Fujiko stood in a huff and turned her heels in disgust. "Why do I bother with you?" she spoke in a sullen tone. "You make the phone ring off the hook, beg me to come over, and want is for me to help you with another one of your silly jobs. Do it yourself for once, master thief." Giving him a pointed glare, she made her way to the door.
"But Fujiko, money!" Lupin whined, running after her.
"There are more important things than money!"
Lupin stared at her in confusion. What was more important than money? "Sex?" he wondered aloud.
"You're hopeless, you know that?" Fujiko groaned, slamming the door in his face.
Lupin sighed and dragged himself back to the living room. What's her problem?
Jigen sat himself across from his companion, who was in a trance glaring at the wall. "Are we set for tomorrow?"
Lupin broke the trance and settled for a mildly annoyed crossing of the arms. "No, Fujiko's got a stick up her ass."
Jigen shrugged. "Told you she was gonna fuck it up for us. So what's plan B? Hold Goemon down and paint his lips a pretty pink again?"
Lupin thought about how successful they had been the last time. Goemon made a prettier looking woman than he wanted to think about. He shook the thoughts away. "There's always a plan B, but that isn't the point. I don't get it. I thought she was happy with money. What else does she need?"
Even Jigen thought Lupin was being an idiot, but then, he always thought that. Knowing it was pointless, he moved to the desk to manage his gun.
Lupin sat and stared at Jigen as he did his usual routine, having nothing better to keep his focus on. Soon, he was watching in amazement at the way Jigen gingerly polished every inch of his beloved revolver. What was the point? It was just a gun, used for violence. It would just get dirty again. He was confused-no, his mind was boggled. He couldn't understand why someone would take such care in an inanimate object only used to shoot people.
Lupin sat, swilling his tea ('cause everyone knows French people are just British people who spit a lot) far beyong the time it took for it to cool. His eyes drawn to other things, he could not forsee the bump that would send his teacup flying. Alarmed, he gazed intently into the spot in the carpet that the tea began to soak. In that moment, watching the darkening spread, Lupin understood everything. The tea had been his guardian angel, his messenger if you will, telling him about what was important in life. He realized that he had made a big mistake, and that the tea would probably leave a stain in the cup if he didn't wash it, and that the sugar in the tea would attract bugs, but he didn't care because he had money-or love or something.
When Fujiko pulled into the driveway, she spotted a shadow in the doorway. She knew that the smart thing to do would be to leave, but she was sick and tired of taking mens' crap. "You made me do this," she muttered darkly, pressing cold steel to his head. "I told you I already have insurance!"
Before she could pull the trigger, the man turned around, revealing a familiar grinning face. "Lupin?" she breathed, dropping her hand, unable to believe that he had come after her.
Lupin gently took the gun from her grip and held her hand in his. "Fujiko, I made a big mistake. Just hear me out," he said-no, pleaded. "I know now, what I never gave you."
Lupin lifted her chin, looked deep into her eyes, and said something that would change both of their lives forever: "Lol, chicken parts."
And they feasted throughout the night.