"Master," Frankenstein says, as he always does, but there is bitterness on his tongue, venom in his throat.
"Frankenstein," Raizel says, as he always does, and he is gentle, hesitant, because Frankenstein's tone does not elude him.
Frankenstein turns from the window, though not fully. Something inside him churns; he almost feels sick, and he almost laughs at himself. Oh, he thought he was over this by now. "Have you been having fun, Master?" for all these insufferable centuries?
"I have just awoken," is the uncannily serene response.
For a moment, Frankenstein is taken aback. He closes the windows and turns to look at his master fully. Wearing that uniform, he must have seen one of the staff from Rozaria's university. Frankenstein, for a moment, sighs fondly; for a moment, smiles softly. For a moment, he is home again. But, "It's been… a long while."
A questioning look from Raizel.
"1,620 years, Master."
This gives Raizel pause. He looks at Frankenstein, sees the sun make a halo of his hair and something sorrowful in his soul. He slowly lowers his gaze. "A long while," he repeats, almost a whisper.
"But not for you." Frankenstein's eyes fall over Seira's desk, dragging along the lines of the wood grain. "Nobles…you don't understand time," he says, almost to himself, but he knows Raizel hears. He sighs. "There is something you should see."
Frankenstein hopes Seira will not mind terribly that he uses a piece of paper from her notepad to leave an encouraging goodbye message. He places her pen down with a click in its exact location. "If you would follow me, Master," he says, heading towards the door.
Gilgamesh is an industrial masterpiece. No surprise, considering Frankenstein modified it himself after having stolen it from a tyrant king in a distant solar system. Muzaka had helped with some of the heavy lifting; he owed him a favor after Frankenstein bought advertisements for his bakery, 'Warming the outer reaches of space with home baked goodness!' Frankenstein has become annoyed with how often he sees that dumb werewolf grin displayed on scrolling boards and screens.
The ship is a stately black when uncamouflaged. The coolers, thrusters, fusion chambers, a magnum opus. And while its outer appearance is heavy and and utilitarian, inside was a luxury, as Frankenstein had become very much used to. But his favorite part: the custom channels and reflectors that allow him to aim Dark Spear's power out of the ship from the comfort of his own cockpit. It had taken him more than a few years to complete such a project, but of course, anything for his long time lover.
The ship's belly open to them.
"What! That's-that's… no way." Urokai rewinds the security footage. "No, no, no. I—" He straightens himself and runs a hand through his hair, then again. He lets out a breath. His face breaks into a smile, and he doesn't know if he should be awfully worried or extremely glad or just cry. Or maybe he is dreaming or his eyes are playing tricks on him or the noble who awoke from the coffin is merely a lookalike. "It's a miracle," he says full of breath or maybe breathlessly; he can't quite tell.
Rozaria stares at him wide-eyed. "Do you… know him?"
Urokai's gaze is fixed to the screen, to the frame, to that figure and that face. "It's him," he whispers almost reverently. He turns suddenly to Zarga, grips him tightly by the shoulders. "We have to find him."
Zarga shifts his head back to give himself a little space. "Obviously," and while his tone was a bit aloof, Urokai caught the slight smile and excitement in his eyes. "Now, if you please…"
"Oh, sorry." Urokai lets go of his partner's shoulders. He turns to Rozaria. "Do you have any more footage or anything else?"
She nods, adjusts her purely decorative glasses, and navigates to the street view on the screen. "We see him walk down Starwell Street, but that's as far as our security cameras go."
Urokai squints at the screen as if such an action would help him remember what lay beyond the camera's eyes. "The direction of the high school," he realizes. The school that has obvious connections to that criminal, no matter how much Seira—a sweet a girl as she is—tries to distance them from him.
They rush out of the building and onto the streets and perhaps they would have opted to run to the school on foot as well had they not just spot that striking black ship rise into the air. "Is that—! That's fucking Frankenstein, get the fuck in!" Urokai shoves Zarga into the vehicle, and they too rise into air.
"Language, Urokai," Zarga chides the redhead; certainly, his head is full of fire.
Urokai rolls his eyes. "I'll lay down my badge before I let him get away this time," and Urokai treasures his badge, polishes it until it is a gleaming mirror everyday since he got it. "I know he's with him." His hands gripping the controls, they are going to chase that blond peacock until the edge of the universe if they have to. If Urokai were not such a man of the law, perhaps he would have taken a moment to pray to the heavens to please let this be the day at last.