Day 2
Time: 5:30 AM
Weight: 123 lbs.
Mood: Wary
Somehow, she found herself back on the early commute bus again the next morning.
She had ordered her coffee extra black and scalding hot, but still, no dice.
That morning, she kept a leery eye out for gallivanting prosecutors during her half mile trek from the bus stop to the police station, but she found that none came her way.
Ema Skye was a whirlwind when she entered the office, sweeping past everyone and delivering masterfully crafted antagonizing glowers whenever anyone looked her way. She was vaguely aware of Gumshoe's presence only after she had sat down at her desk.
"Ema there's been a call at the intersection of Main and 19th street," he said, urging her out of her seat.
"Already? Shouldn't people be sleeping right now? Who in their right mind is out there committing crimes?" she grumbled.
"I don't know, pal, but I hope we never have to meet them." Gumshoe replied, making Ema wonder just how reliable he was as a police officer.
Seeing that she had no other choice, she followed him into the squad car.
They arrived at the same time as a certain prosecutor.
A tirade of angry sounding German words followed him as he persecuted the police officers that had already arrived on the scene. "You what?!"
Ema nearly laughed. He seemed like a completely different Klavier. "Oh, if his fans could see him now."
"Oh trust me, he's worse after concerts."
"Who said that?" Ema asked, turning around. She nearly collided with a very long and incredibly impractical pompadour.
The man in front of her had ridiculously long black hair that pointed forward at least a foot in front of him. His clothing was peculiar and reminded Ema of a shark for some reason.
"Detective Daryan Crescend, international affairs," the detective responded, not offering his hand, but instead fluffing his hair.
Weiiiiiiiirdo.
"Ema Skye." She responded. As an afterthought, she added, "Detective on the scene."
Ema found herself feeling increasingly more uncomfortable around this guy and attempted to find a way to get away from him. Gumshoe seemed to have magically disappeared. Thinking of the detective, her brows knit with confusion. "If Gumshoe and I are already here, why are you?"
"Technically because illegally smuggled substances are involved, but between you and me," the guy leaned closer, "because Klavier is ready to kill someone."
She was still creeped out by Daryan, but she had to agree. The prosecutor was on fire. What she could only assume were German swear words echoed through the building.
The enraged German words grew closer… and closer… and ….
"Daryan!" A very upset looking Klavier was on top of them in a heart-beat. "Even your flunkies are ruining the crime scene now, go deal with them."
The shark-like detective jumped, looking just a bit apprehensive before he composed himself, fluffing his hair again. "Ok Klavier, just cool it. Don't shit a kitten. I'll put them under my control…"
Daryan looked expectantly at Klavier, and finally, the other smirked back, "in charge of your soul…"
"Guilty Love!" They both sang at the same time, busting into five second air guitar riffs.
Somehow they both knew when to simultaneously stop, and when they did, Daryan walked away to deal with the mess. Good riddance.
Ema wasn't sure what to expect when Klavier turned to her. Hopefully, not a continuation of their air guitar session.
"Want to get breakfast?" His question sounded more like a statement. Indeed, he clasped her hand and pulled her away from the crime scene before she could even respond.
"Wait, what?!" She was confused. Very confused. "Shouldn't I be investigating the crime scene?"
"It's fräulein detective today, hmm?" He chuckled, continuing to lead her out of the building and down the street. "Daryan will handle it. Come, I know a great place."
However, where Klavier led her was not to the so-called "great place."
He lead her to his motorcycle.
Ema folded her arms. "All right, glimmer-boy. What kind of joke is this?"
"Glimmer-boy? That's a new one." Klavier smiled his Mr. Charming smile as he handed her a spare helmet and answered her question. "It's no joke. The place is a bit far on foot."
"Right." She said sarcastically, eyeing the helmet doubtfully. "You just want to take me for a joy-ride and hope that I squeal like one of your silly fangirls and grab your 6-pack and admire your body and suggest that we do something besides breakfast."
Klavier eyed her earnestly, as if he were sizing up her words. Eventually, he cracked a smirk. "No, actually, I just wanted breakfast. But you seem to have thought quite a bit about it."
Ema froze, suddenly feeling a flush of embarrassment coming on. In an attempt to hide the blush, she put the helmet over her head, thankful that it had a tinted face. "Fine. Breakfast. Just breakfast."
She allowed herself to be helped onto the motorcycle and wrapped her arms snugly around Klavier's waist after he started the engine.
Ema determinedly held in a yelp when he took off, zooming away at something far past the speed limit.
She kept her eyes trained on the road ahead of them, debating what would be less likely to cause her death, jumping off the motorcycle, or staying on.
She didn't have to think about it too long, because they pulled to an abrupt stop moments later. Ema jumped off the cycle, the world swaying around her.
When Klavier appeared next to her, she threw his helmet back at him. "Where did you learn to drive?!"
"Germany," he replied matter-of-factly. "Why, too fast for you?"
She didn't know what they did in Germany, or more precisely, what Klavier did in Germany, but she certainly hoped she wouldn't have to live through that again.
Stubbornly, she folded her arms across her chest. "No."
"Good, then you won't mind the ride back."
That wasn't fair. That was cheating!
Before she could protest, he was already sweeping past her, holding open the door to what appeared to be a quaint breakfast establishment.
The restaurant interior was decorated in an old fashioned country kitchen theme. Faded blue cloth curtains with similarly faded white lace rimming adorned the window by the table they were guided to. The table itself was made of a lightly stained wood, complimented with squishy yet comfy chairs.
The morning sun had just begun to stream through the windows, casting a soft warm glow around the 'kitchen.' Ema noted that it lightened Klavier's already blonde hair, making it seem as though he had a halo of light around him.
Surely, he'd love that.
As she seated herself across from him, Ema suddenly felt uncomfortable again, though the atmosphere was quite pleasant in the establishment.
Sure, he was a rock star fop, and she did so despise that about him. But he was still her boss. Sort of. Ema wasn't exactly sure about how that worked yet.
She was pretty sure though. And this entire arrangement seemed a hell of a lot like a date…
Determinedly, Ema looked anywhere else but at him.
Small vase of flowers. Sugar packets. Salt and pepper. The usual.
"I always found this… Splenda… disgusting," Klavier commented, poking the baby yellow packet that she was staring at.
Why was he talking about artificial sweetener? "Why do you have to be such a freak?"
Ema paused, wondering which of her inner monologues she had voiced.
They blinked at each other for a few seconds. Apparently, she had voiced the wrong one.
The moment grew longer, and she began to feel even more awkward. Why did she always say such stupid things when she was nervous?!
Klavier rested his elbow on the table, toying with the wisps of blonde hair in front of his face, a soft smirk resting on his lips. "Such spirit! Mein Gott, du bist schön…"
Certain that he was swearing at her in that weird language, Ema squirmed in her seat, fidgeting with the ends of the tablecloth. It was a relief when the waiter arrived, delivering their long awaited menus.
Ema quickly immersed herself in the menu. She noted that prices were a little higher than she would have liked but were still affordable and settled on a ham omelet with hash browns.
Klavier ordered bacon pancakes.
"Bacon… pancakes?" She questioned after their waiter had left. "Pancakes with a side of bacon, right?"
"Nein!" He happily explained. "Pancakes with bacon in them."
"Is that supposed to be some sort of lewd innuendo?" She eyed him warily.
Klavier arched an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. "Do you want it to be?"
He was impossible! Ema pouted, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. "N-No! Why would you think—!"
She was certain that she was flushed now, purely out of anger. This time she didn't have the luxury of a motorcycle helmet to cover it.
"It was a joke, fräulein Skye," he murmured. "Sie sind liebenswert, wenn Sie wütend."
That was it.
"Stop! Just... stop it!" Ema blurted out, feeling like she was physically in pain.
Klavier blinked at her innocently."Stop what?"
"What, are you serious??" She snapped at him, but when she saw him innocently blinking, she sighed. "You're in America now, not everyone here speaks German."
It took him less than a moment to respond, but in that short time, she could see the mischief in his eyes. She hated him already.
"Fräulein Skye ist wütend?" He grinned. "Ich liebe es, wenn Sie wütend."
That was the last straw.
"Klavier! I…" She was about to stand up from the table, but the waiter arrived again, bearing glasses of orange juice.
"You ordered these earlier right? Sorry we don't have your breakfast up yet, it'll be here soon." She curtly delivered the orange juice and left.
Ema was stuck between pondering just how a restaurant could already almost have their food prepared when they had just ordered and wanting to slap Klavier Gavin.
And just when had they ordered orange juice?
In the end, she settled for sipping her orange juice and glaring at the fop across from her as he nonchalantly drank his juice.
"Fräulein Skye," Klavier began, likely sensing her anger. "this is only your second day on the job, ja?"
"Ja!" Ema spat the word back at him, sliding her glass aside.
"And it only took you one day to hate me. This is quite the record!" He marveled.
"Well," Ema began, listing off reasons on her fingers with fervor. "maybe if you didn't crash into people and play air guitar for a half hour and have stupid squealing fangirls and carry around self autographed pictures of yourself and speak in German all the time and force people to ride your motorcycle I wouldn't be angry!"
She finished, finding that she was breathing heavily from either the effort or her own fury.
Klavier didn't say anything. Ema wanted to pretend that he looked shocked and surprised, but he didn't. His expression was placid, perhaps even slightly bemused, as he played with the golden wisps of hair in front of his face.
Ema didn't know what to make of it. Had she finally said too much? Was this going to be another repeat of her college sociology class where she "voiced her opinion" so many times that the professor had her thrown from the class?
Maybe it would be better if he made her quit. She was still young. She could find another job that didn't involve foppish rockstars.
"Fr-Miss Skye…" Klavier began. Here it came…
He was interrupted by a plate, thrust in front of his face. "Bacon Pancakes!"
Ema's food was thrown quickly in front of her as well. "Omelet and hash!"
That was fast. Ema poked her omelet with her fork, but found that it was completely cooked. And delicious.
Their former conversation was lost quickly in favor of a scrumptious breakfast.
She tossed down hers speedily and found herself actually waiting for Klavier to finish.
"Bacon pancakes…" she murmured, still eyeing the gooey yet crispy mess doubtfully.
Klavier smirked, "Try it. You might find you like it." He cut her a far too generous slice and flipped it over onto her plate.
The pancake stared at her.
She stared back.
"It won't bite," she heard Klavier say teasingly while her eyes were still trained to the pancake.
"That's my job, right?" She finished the weak joke for him, finally picking up the piece with her fork.
Debating if she should hold her nose, she sniffed the pancake. It smelled ok. It looked ok. Maybe it would taste…
Fantastic. It was the perfect combination of salty and sweet.
"Like them?"
His voice drew her attention back to the prosecutor. "I thought you might, since you enjoy snackoos."
Klavier Gavin had finished and was sitting back in his chair, watching her attentively. Something about him seemed just a little different than when they first entered the restaurant, but Ema couldn't place what it was.
What had happened to that comfortable anger she had just minutes ago? Things had seemed normal and entirely non-threatening when she was reaming Klavier out. But now he was looking at her differently with those soft blue eyes and he wasn't doing anything stupid to make her upset.
Just what was she supposed to do?
"You have good taste in pancakes," Ema said, wondering immediately afterwards why she had said it. What did that have to do with anything? Why was this odd anxious feeling back?
Ema did what she always did when she said something strange. She tried to make it better. "And restaurants. This place is really nice. It's got this homey kitchen atmosphere like my grandma's house. And they serve food really quickly here. I'm not really sure what was up with the orange juice, but that was fast too, and…"
Tried was really the key word.
"Ema Skye, you are adorable," he smiled, but it wasn't his typical foppish smirk. "I think we are going to make a great team."
"Team?" she wondered to herself while somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that he had called her by her first name. (And adorable.)
Oh well. What was the big deal with that anyway? They were in the United States of America; it was normal to call someone by their first name! (And adorable…?)
Work. He was talking about work. Feeling a little bit more at ease with the topic, she smiled back, "Of course we will! I'm a forensic scientist after all."
"Oh you are?" Klavier leaned forward with interest.
"Well, I should be anyway," Ema admitted. "That's what I went to school for, though it's not where I am now. Someday I intend to make it there."
When the check arrived, Klavier took it without a second thought. After glancing at it briefly, he dug into his pocket and retrieved a small wallet with the same insignia he wore around his neck. He handed the waitress a sum of cash Ema couldn't readily identify and murmured, "Keep the change."
The waitress appeared flattered, thanked them, and left.
Once she disappeared around the corner, Klavier turned his attention back to Ema. "Fräulein Skye—" he began then stopped, shaking his head lightly. "Sorry, this is a tough habit to break…"
Had Klavier just apologized?
"That's ok," Ema quickly interjected, for some reason feeling more than willing to forgive him for using that unintelligible language right now. "What does fräulein mean?"
"It means 'Miss,'" he explained, smiling apologetically.
"Oh," she replied, feeling a little down now that the mystery of the word was gone. At least it didn't mean something far worse. "I guess I don't mind if you use fräulein then. What did everything else you said this morning mean?"
Klavier appeared thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged, "I'm not sure when I used German. It just happens sometimes. Why don't you ask me next time?"
Next time? Ema had a bad feeling about that, but she found herself nodding.
It suddenly occurred to her that she should probably offer to pay or thank him for breakfast. She reached for her purse. "How much do I owe you?"
"Don't worry about it, I forced you to come here on my motorcycle, after all," he smirked.
"That's right, you did," her face paled. "…and we still have a trip ahead of us."
Klavier chuckled, "Why so we do!"
Ema sighed, "We should probably get back, shouldn't we? The boss will be upset if we leave for too long."
"The only thing that will drive me mad is if Daryan hasn't done his job yet," Klavier muttered, finally standing up from the table and confirming for Ema that he truly was 'the boss.'
Taking the cue, Ema rose as well, gathering her purse and walking out of the restaurant.
It almost seemed like a normal motorcycle ride this time. Klavier didn't take turns at 400 mph, and the feeling of the wind rushing around her was actually quite pleasant.
Maybe she had misjudged Klavier. Maybe there was more to him than the foppish glimmer-boy she had imagined.
Klavier parked his motorcycle conveniently on the sidewalk right outside the crime scene. She handed back the motorcycle helmet again, waiting to see what would happen next.
"Before we go back, there is something I want to give you…" Klavier began digging into his pockets.
What could he possibly want to give her? Ema had a strange feeling that something would happen very soon… something…
"I noticed that you didn't get one yesterday," Klavier grinned and handed her something, ducking quickly back into the building. "See you inside!"
…something that would make her hate Klavier Gavin.
It was a self autographed picture of himself.
"Wha-uurgh!" As much as she wanted to crumple the picture and throw it away, she found herself angrily stowing it away in her purse with a quick shove. She was certain she would need the evidence someday.
"Once a glimmer-boy, always a glimmer-boy," she grumbled, then trudged in after him.
LateNiteSlacker's Notes:
My apologies go out to anyone out there that actually speaks German. I don't. At all. I'll admit that all of Klavier's German lines were directly translated by Google translator, but for the sake of the story, I felt that a little sacrifice was necessary. If it bothers you though, please suggest corrections and I'll correct them accordingly.
Chapter 3 is done! Writing this has made me happy. Review if it makes you happy. :)
