I still don't see the rights to Professor Layton in my possession.
So I guess it still doesn't belong to me.
Clive was learning that Flora really was more unpredictable than what he'd previously thought the last time he'd visited.
Last time, the Professor only let her make sandwiches as a side dish for dinner, and he'd cooked the rest; the Professor was an amazing cook, he'd learned, when Rosa wasn't cooking. Last time, he'd done Flora's laundry and busted a rib laughing at her panties. (Figuratively, although, the look on Flora's face when she walked in looked like she wanted to break his ribs.)
No, no, Flora was quite surprising. When he'd settled in after unpacking the meager things he'd bring from prison and back, (mostly toiletries and small things, books and the like,) he'd come back downstairs to find the girl and Luke huddled around the telly, watching baseball and placing bets. That wasn't exactly unusual, save that he was still adjusting to how much Luke had grown in the three years they'd known each other, the same to Flora.
"TOUCHDOWN!" Luke threw his arms into the air as a player struck a homerun before holding his hand out, grinning. "Gimme my five, Flora." Flora grimaced, handing the younger boy a bill, who pocketed it eagerly. That was yet another thing Clive had to get used to- Luke's language since moving overseas. The boy tended to curse more than Flora would, both only to have the Professor correct them in his usual tone.
"You're still using the wrong term, Flukiekins." Clive snickered at the boy's grimace, not wanting to particularly think about that girl from the now-destroyed Underground-London.
"Well, Mister Dove," Luke started, fluffing his hair, "It's a matter of preference." Luke flipped the channels, to a documentary channel and walked to the kitchen to make tea. Luke asked her to come in, asking for something mundane. The girl obliged, and hushed talking was heard, not understandable, but the two were talking about something.
A few minutes later, the two came out with a pot of tea, and three cups. Flora insisted he have a specific cup, one with fine powder that Clive overlooked coating the inside. They drank the tea in peace, and the girl spoke of a dress she was planning on making. It'd be ruffled, shades of pink and white- not unlike a maid's outfit. Clive, on the other hand, was starting to feel like he'd been drinking too much. Luke snickered occasionally. Things were hazy and goddamn, Clive felt dizzy. After that, he didn't remember anything but going to bed.
What happened, on the other hand, Flora and Luke resorted to drugging the oldest of the three to get his measurements. He sure as hell wouldn't agree if he was sober, so something like a sleeping pill was optimal. The Professor had sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, (The label was French. It sure as hell wasn't his. And, hell, Luke had seen Descole in the house before, it wouldn't surprise him if the man stayed over every now and then.) so those were ground and left to line Clive's teacup.
Needless to say, once he was half- awake, Luke stood to support the man while Flora broke out the measuring tape to measure the man. She was quick and rather precise about it, much like a professional would be, no groping or anything of the sort. Clive was muttering nonsense when the two dragged him upstairs, to his room, and into his bed. The Professor was reading, grading papers and the like, and it was rather late anyway. After a short conversation and some more tea, Luke and Flora both went to bed.
The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully, save for Descole coming over the next day, rummaging through the medicne cabinet, grabbing that French bottle of sleeping pills, and going home- all of this at maybe five in the morning, before Luke and Flora were awake, Clive and Layton watching an early morning documentary about dinosaurs. Other than that, Clive took his leave the next day, back to prison, to come back in four weeks, which Flora said, would be enough time for her to finish the dress she was starting on. He didn't know why, but somehow, Clive had a bad feeling about this dress Flora was talking about.
Four weeks later, he found this hunch of his was precisely right. The dress itself wasn't for Flora at all, but for him.
And he was expected to wear it, because "That's what a gentleman does." As according to the Professor.
(Hell, he was holding back serious laughter saying it.)
A/N: Actually, I really wasn't expecting for people to actually find that last chapter funny. ;;;
I always thought myself to have a weird sense of humour; glad to know you like it!
Anyway, yes, I am implying Descole/Layton.
I'm working on a fic for that pairing. CB
And yes.
Layton totally digs dinosaurs because of Lando.
There's going to be another chapter, maybe.
Depending if someone asks for another. ;;;;;;
And, again, yes, it does take place three years in the future. My headcannon dictates that Flora is only a year and a half older than Luke.
My headcannon also dictates that Descole's a total insomniac, but that's beside the point.
