Eh, not very long, but…. A bit more of random fun stuff, I think, in this chapter. Not too much going on in terms of major plot. Gotta transition between things at some point! Thought I'd throw in some more Luke, with sprinkles of Flora. THIS WILL NEVER BECOME LUKExFLORA SO DON'T ASK. Ugh.

Anyway. It's not the best, but I quite enjoyed writing about the airplane. I'm admittedly in love with airplanes and all things that fly. I'm also madly in love with the Bernoulli Principle, and it changed my life when I learned about it in 7th grade. Can you say….PHYSICS GEEK?

My plot stinks, and when this is all over, you'll all probably scoff and think, "What a joke. I wasted my time on such a generic plot line? I could have been doing something more important, like…watching concrete crack."

Anyway, that's all I have to say. I'm too psyched for this bird fair I'm going to in a few hours (it'll be over when I post this…haha) to care anymore. Can you say….PARROT GEEK?

Oh, and btw, if you know of Prof. Layton's actual office number, lemme know. The one here is made up because I'm too lazy to go through the games and movie to check….

OH! And if anyone's going to ACEN (anime convention in Chicago) on April 28th, I'll be there! 8D

Avoiding the free pistachio ice cream,

Kelsey

CHAPTER 25: THESIS STATEMENT

There was a time when I thought I could manage. Manage my goals, manage my time…manage my emotions. My life, even. I might have even tried to manage that. I guess I was aiming too high. Because I jumped, and reached, stretched with all I had, fingertips to the skies, the endless vacuum of a territory I'd never bothered to pay much attention to.

And…I fell. Hard. In more ways than one.

I suppose I knew all along what it was like to aim for perfection, but I realized early on that it was unattainable. Perhaps that's why I advised against it… I knew that it hurt to fall. Would I allow anyone to find that out on one's own when I could prevent it? Would I allow her to find that out on her own?

For the record, I knew she wouldn't listen. After all, I wasn't either.

And it appears…I'm still not listening.

Why does it feel like I'm not in control? It's disturbing.

It's disturbing.

It's utterly, completely, illogically disturbing.

Tea. Yes, tea. I'll make some tea.

I think I have an appointment at noon…

Maybe that's tomorrow. Or maybe that's next Monday… I'll just tuck in to some biscuits and this pot of tea and—

"Professorrrrrr!"

The door to the quaint office of Room 114, First Floor, Department of Archaeology, Gressenheller University, swung open with the same energy of a champagne cork, an exuberant and crazed female student striding through the trembling door frame. She made a quick dash to one of the available desk chairs, laughing and pointing at a fellow classmate who had just as hectically—only trailing by mere split seconds—followed from behind.

At the moment the door had collided with the wall, Professor Layton had simultaneously gasped and jumped, proceeding to spill hot tea on his trousers, swear under his breath, feel guilt for swearing, and smile genially as if none of the events had come to pass. He nonchalantly pulled his seat closer to his desk, attempting to hide the stains on his pant legs, as the girls smiled back at him. He nervously greeted them, feeling hidden agendas staring him in the face. Or perhaps more aptly put, 'punching' him in the face.

"Ah, Miss Rudolph and Miss Quatrain. Early as always, I see…"

"A second missed of an appointment with you is a second's worth of punishment in Hell, Professor," the girl known as Teresa rattled off matter-of-factly. She had entered the room first, and wore a conservative uniform of khaki and white, the tan of her skirt blending in with her slightly darker skin. She and her friend, Lily, wore clothing as similar as night and day, as the latter sported a provocative dress, cut to reveal a bit more than what was typically considered socially acceptable on the campus. Both girls traded glances and giggled.

"All true, Professor," Lily said, tossing her dark curls about as she dug through her bag. "We came for you to help us with our thesis papers!"

"Yes!"

"We're a bit stuck on the thesis part…"

"After all, it is a thesis paper!"

"And what's a thesis paper without a good thesis?"

"Indeed!"

The Professor cringed inside at the inane banter, but continued smiling like an unmoving statue. "Indeed indeed. However, didn't I just help you correct your theses the other day? Surely, there isn't anything more for you to take away from another meeting?"

Teresa gasped, dramatic hurt plastered across her face. "You are too modest, Professor Layton! We don't merely take you for a boring editor!"

"Of course not! We accept you only as the wonderful friend and confidant that you are!"

"Yes, so perhaps the thesis trouble is a façade…"

Lily nodded, crossing her legs and making sure her pose was in full view for the Professor. "Really, we came to invite you to lunch this afternoon!"

"But of course," Teresa said, smiling at her teacher seductively, a cue for her friend to join as well. The pair looked like desperate teenagers trying to score a date to a formal dance that, should they miss, would go into the 'Book of Social Failures'. Layton was unsure whether to feel sorry for them, or to feel frightened of them. The girls' audacity aside, their intentions were something impervious to oversight, as blatant as their outfits and flirtatious expressions were.

'If only I had Millies and Claras and whoever else I had back in the day at Grissom's… These girls make my former students look like saints!' he thought to himself. His cheeks burned from embarrassment, as well as from holding the same stony, smiling pose that he used when hiding deep-seated opinions.

Layton cleared his throat. "As much as I should get something to eat this afternoon, I—"

"Don't try declining!"

"We won't take 'No' for an answer!"

The duo stood simultaneously, indignantly folding their arms across their chests and briefly snorting their contempt at an unfavorable outcome. With no further course of action, the Professor sighed and sat back in his seat, utterly defeated and tired of putting up with a useless fight.

"How does next Tuesday, 11:30 AM in the student café sound?" he muttered reluctantly, scratching his forehead absentmindedly. "I have a meeting at 12 but—"

"I'm glad you see reason, Professor Layton," Lily chortled, a slight purr in her voice.

"Oh yes, very glad. We didn't have to resort to…undesirable measures," the other girl said softly, barely above a whisper. With a quick giggle, both girls grabbed their bags and turned on their heels, smiling triumphantly. "We'll see you in class later, Professor!"

"Yes, we can't wait!"

The door shut in contrast to the way it was opened, a soft click ensuring they had truly left. Professor Layton blinked, then exhaled sadly, wishing he could recall what he had just agreed to, and wondering what 'undesirable measures' meant exactly.

Moments later, the door opened again, hinges creaking. Layton looked up, his heart sinking as he expected to find his admirers returned. Instead, he was met with relief as a former student poked her head between the frame and the open door.

"Ah, Laura. A very welcome surprise, considering who just left…"

"Oh indeed. I heard the aftermath coasting down the hallway," Laura scoffed with disgust. "Your little admirers were trying to determine which outfit you ogled at the most. Tell me: do you prefer the traditional school girl, or the street walker get-up? Everyone's dying to know."

"To be honest, I couldn't tell you what either of them was wearing. I wasn't looking at their clothing so much as their expressions to judge what sort of antic they'd pull next. I'll confide in you this: I've never been so loath to step foot into a classroom as I am now, knowing they're in it!"

Laura laughed haughtily and slowly approached the desk as Layton busied himself with organizing his notes and an array of folders. "They have you wrapped around their finger!"

"Don't remind me…"

Laura rummaged through her bag. She removed two pieces of folded paper and tossed them lightly on the desk.

"Plane tickets for Luke and Flora. I'm assuming they will fly if given the opportunity?" she questioned.

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea for them to come along. What if they get wrapped up in something, well, dangerous? I'm not comfortable with them running into unknown situations like this, so—"

"So you'll let them know the risks and let them come, right?" the girl said with a grin. "Where else are they going to be able to stay anyway? You'll leave them all alone?"

"Nonsense! Rosa's here, and she already comes by daily to check in. She'd be more than willing to take care of—"

"Well, they already think they are going," Laura interrupted, shrugging. "Guess you'll just have to break it to them, tell them they can't go after all. No way now of letting them down easy, I suppose…"

The Professor rolled his eyes. "You already invited them, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? That's your wicked way of saying 'Yes'!"

"I'm not so sure about 'wicked', but perhaps, yes, that's my way," she said brightly, smirking. "I'd like some more lively company than what you'd deliver. You don't quite provide any more decent of conversation than you did a decade ago, so I'd rather like to have some intellectual stimulation for the duration of this escapade."

Spluttering on his words, Layton shook his head earnestly. "W-What? Back to your insults? And what if I decide to not accompany you at all? This is a favor, you know!"

Laura giggled madly all the way to the office door, catching her balance on the door knob. "Insults…? Such a brash reaction. There was a time when you enjoyed being picked on. Plus, a gentleman never goes back on his word, correct? Then I trust you'll be at the airport tomorrow morning, boarding a plan by 10 AM, and eating rigatoni before the evening arrives."

"Yes, well…I suppose so, but…that's not the point. I'm not so sure what the point even was." He collected his things and hurriedly followed her out the door, closing it behind them and double checking that he indeed had his keys. The last thing he needed would be to be locked out from his office…again. "You might try being a little less abrasive…"

Laura tried walking at a comfortable pace for the Professor, but found her legs holding her back terribly. She grimaced apologetically. "I'm not quite…able to walk as quickly as you need to walk. And, abrasive? Really? You used to take it and deliver it back again with such finesse! I guess you lost your touch. I'll keep my witty comments to myself then."

"I've, well…I've mellowed out a bit, I suppose," he said, slowing down. "Not enough practice. And besides, well….well, it's really not all that important." He purposefully avoided her confused glance, instead checking his pocket watch. "I must get going. I have a class to teach soon."

"Not important. I'm starting to wonder what you do find important in the world." She stopped in the middle of the hall, letting him continue on without her.

"Right now, it's getting to my lecture hall without being truant. You're more than welcome to make yourself at home back with Luke and Flora, but for now, the talk of planes and rigatoni will have to wait." He walked on ahead, failing to turn around and bid farewell properly. His thoughts were gravitating elsewhere. "I trust you can find your way back unaided?"

"The talk on rigatoni can wait forever. I hate Italian food." She shook her head as the Professor carried on without her, pausing briefly before turning a corner. "Yeah, sure. I'll be fine."

"Yes, yes. Good day, Laura."

She watched wistfully as he disappeared. Chiding herself quietly, she made certain to not let her feelings get the better of her again as she clenched her fists and made her way to the exit. Her legs began to unwillingly lock up, making her wince as she forced them to bend.

"Things aren't the same, am I trying to kid myself? A decade has gone.

'Even if I tried to believe that things aren't any different, I know, logically, that they indeed are. I'm still going to question, I'm still going to challenge. Question what's real, challenge my trust. All I can be certain about is my own consistency.

'I hope I've made the right decision, contacting him, and haven't just sealed my fate.'

A slight bout of guilt playing games with his conscience, Professor Layton snuck into the men's bathroom, 30 minutes left until he was expected to start class. It was all he could do to break free of the madness that had unceremoniously chewed up his morning and spit it back out without so much as an apology (or perhaps a comment on how it tasted, although he was certain he could make a fair judgment himself). He sighed, sitting on a cushioned stool in a small annex reserved for waiting. In this case, it was solely for thinking. Thinking and sympathizing. The latter, for himself.

'She doesn't know, but I'm losing myself,' the Professor thought miserably. 'One moment, I'm in the past, living as if a day hasn't passed since…well, since the last time I saw her. As if there was nothing to feel sorry for. And then? I'm feeling like I'm owed something, like I'm allowed to blame her for something. But…'

"But what…?" He stared at the wall, momentarily wondering whether the hue of the wallpaper was appropriately matched with the carpet. Verdict: no.

'But back to important things… Part of me wants to feel like I used to. But the other part is rejecting that feeling. Almost out of anger, out of spite. As if ten years should be enough time to cure me of whatever disease crept through my system before…'

He walked distractedly to a sink, washing his hands without a clear reason. Staring himself down in the oval mirror in front of him, he blinked, and frowned, the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes.

'Am I really obligated to help her? Am I just doing it out of sympathy? Or perhaps, as a sort of penance for my former misdeeds? I'm starting to think it's something like that. I hope she realizes this. My behavior last night wasn't…that wasn't me. I shouldn't have done that. What was I thinking, kissing her…? I don't even know where that came from. As if I should have been comfortable doing such a thing! I'm losing it, even after all this time, I'm losing it… I'm no where closer to any sort of perfection than 10 years ago…

'After this whole puzzle is solved, it's done. The end. There doesn't need to be a resurrection of anything from the past.

'The past is dead.'

"She doesn't enjoy studying the past anyway. I'm doing her a favor, actually," he mumbled to himself over the rush of the faucet, his expression morphing into something more jovial as he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Even with his energy heightened, he swore he'd aged considerably over the past 10 years, much more than Laura had. Sighing, he turned off the water with a metallic squeak and gathered his materials, holding them firmly under his arm.

'Yes…a favor.'

Breathing in deeply, Luke gazed around him, people of all looks, all walks of life, convening at one central place for one reason, and one reason alone: transportation.

"This airport is huge! I don't recall ever being in such a busy place! With so many various people too!" he exclaimed, completely mesmerized by the slow rhythm of people entering and leaving all of the shopping establishments before boarding their planes, finding their gates of departure. He smiled happily at a family reunited, an elderly woman taking a few young children into her embrace. "Isn't it wonderful, Professor? So many things going on, everyone has a story!"

"Oh yes, yes, quite." Professor Layton glanced once more at his ticket, making sure they were heading in the right direction. "Luke, help me find our gate. I don't want to walk out of the way only to realize we're at the wrong place. Remember, it's important for a gentleman not to be—Luke, are you listening?"

The boy strayed slightly from Layton's side, inching closer to a candy stand. "Yes, Professor, loud and clear!"

"Then you'll want to stay by my side, and—Flora, whatever are you doing?"

"Look, free samples!" the girl squealed, pointing exuberantly at a bored looking man holding a food tray. It resembled a sad cactus, the way the toothpicks stood up around the tray so sparsely, jammed into cubes and slices of cheeses and cured sausages.

"Samples? Oh, and Professor, I want a pretzel!"

"Me too! How about a cinnamon roll? I can smell it from here!" Flora raced to a pastry cart, flying from the Professor's attempt to grab her shoulder.

"Now see here, both of you! This is a very hectic environ—"

"Cinnamon roll? Oh, I want a smoothie too!"

"Steady on, my boy! Luke, don't you dare!"

Luke pivoted around the Professor and made a dash towards the treats, following Flora, as Layton pawed at the air and groaned, having missed his chance to nab the boy as well, staring after both of the children in his charge. He threw his hands up as far as his couth would let him, trying hard not to showcase his being flustered.

"Back in my day, I'd have never done such a thing over sweets!"

"Back in your day, good sir, there were no sweets except for molasses and the sugar cube, and that was primarily for tea, not a snack." Laura smirked at the Professor's livid face as she approached him slowly. "Glad to see you made it! And good job taking care of your assistants. They're both food for the wolves, what with your ability to control them!"

"And how do you suggest that I contain them any better, given what I've tried?" Layton retorted icily. "Since you're so good with children."

"Oh, that's easy. Sometimes, they are actually begging for you to be firm with them." She turned towards Luke and Flora, taking a few steps towards the cart that they were huddled around, gawking hungrily at a glass display case full of warm treats. "Luke, Flora! We really need to find our gate. If you make us late, you're going to be in for a very hefty punishment. Say, sitting in a hotel room while the Professor and I take in all the sights Rome has to offer?" She ground her knuckles into her sides as she stood akimbo, obviously delighting in taking charge as her mouth curved upward craftily. "Understood?"

Both children turned from the cart and raced back to their guardians, shaking their heads.

"No! Okay, sorry, Professor, we'll just wait right here," Luke sputtered, breaking suddenly from his run to avoid slamming full-force into the Professor. Flora followed suit, next to Laura.

"Sorry, Miss Laura, we'll just stay right here."

Mouth slightly agape, Layton turned slowly to his former student as they continued walking. "Ever thought of taking up drill instructing?"

"No. But you might want to start demanding attention from others. You know, being a pansy isn't a prerequisite of being a gentleman."

"I just don't do things the way you do, is all."

"Your back's cracking, but there's no chiropractor in sight," she said, shrugging.

"…what's that even mean?"

"You let people walk all over you."

Brows furrowed, the Professor opened his mouth to say something pithy, but was stopped by Luke's sudden announcement.

"There it is! Gate K-6!" He punched the air and smiled happily at Flora. "We'll be off in no time now!"

They all walked up to the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall, looking out over the bustling tarmac. Several attendants and workers were arranging luggage, guiding other airplanes to their appropriate zones, and making sure everything was in good working order. Professor Layton turned away from the window.

"Our flight leaves in about 30 minutes, so find something quiet to busy yourselves with," he said quietly, taking a seat in the waiting area. "As for myself, I have a bit of reading to finish."

Luke and Flora took to a forlorn old newspaper tossed apathetically onto one of the many black seats, searching for a crossword or some other game within, as Laura sat next to the Professor. She sighed heavily.

"So, what's your intuition and intellect telling you about this whole thing? Anything new? Any…oh I don't know, initial reactions or thoughts about this whole matter?"

"I thought I'd save it for the aeroplane, when I'd have a better idea of who was around me, who could be listening," he said quietly, barely above a whisper. "I'm not certain that you're free from observation, given what you told me about being monitored."

"Good thinking. I guess that skull of yours isn't as cobwebby as I thought," she laughed. "I'll let you read then."

After several minutes, passengers began boarding the flight. Professor Layton made sure everyone in his party was accounted for, handing the tickets over to the attendant before taking to the long, dimly lit hallway that led to the plane's door. He breathed in deeply; the temporary accordion halls leading passengers to their destination always had the same sterile scent, and it was one he was particularly fond of.

They all boarded, Laura taking a seat by a window. She sat back and smiled, obviously pleased. "There is nothing I like more than a plane take off."

The Professor took the seat to her right, Luke and Flora in the same row but across the aisle. "Nothing quite like it, I must admit. It's quite the rush."

He reminded Luke and Flora of the air sickness bags located in front of them, as well as all possible exits in case of emergency, even though the stewardess was already explaining such things. Laura rolled her eyes and gazed out the window as the attendant went on to explain the requirement of fastening one's seatbelt and keeping it locked until the appropriate signal was delivered. Luke groaned, tightening his belt.

"Such a chore…"

The engine whirred along with the turbines underneath the wings; the sound caused buzzing throughout the cabin like some sort of static. Perhaps it was the air vents, adjusting for pressure, Laura thought. She'd have to research that later on when her mind was clearer.

A light silence settled on the passengers. Only low voices could be heard as the plane finally lurched forward, the metallic behemoth slowly driving along the tarmac. It stayed its course for some time, the pilot at the front ensuring he had clearance to take to the runway. The plane turned, wings outstretched on either side, dying to take to the skies, which were a dull blue and contained not a cloud in sight. They finally faced a long expanse of runway, Laura glancing at it out of her window before the plane lined up with the road. Layton leaned forward, trying to catch a better look.

"Indeed, even as I've aged, this is still the fun part." He turned to Luke and Flora, who were staring out of their own window. "Off we go, you two."

Without warning, the aeroplane creeped forward, increasing speed steadily, but quickly. The tires bore heavily against the concrete ground, spinning wildly as they took the machine forward. Laura smiled as she listened intently at the loud whirring and sucking sound that can only be associated with planes gathering speed for take-off, cutting into the air like a knife. The sound of the air rushing past jumped from one pitch to another every second, just before the final moment when physics fully takes over. Beautifully, almost impossibly so, the plane lifted from the tarmac, tires barely grazing the cement for a moment before breaking away from the ground completely. All of the passengers felt their stomachs flop, pulled back into their seats, the pressure in their heads slowly changing with the altitude.

'I love G-forces,' Laura thought with a crazed grin.

"The Bernoulli Principle… The single most gorgeous discovery in all of science," Laura whispered to herself, although the Professor heard her clearly. He silently agreed as the city became a children's toy set, the roads and highways becoming as thin and wiry as ones shown on maps and charts.

After gaining a favorable altitude, the typical protocol of the average flight began. The signal that granted permission to remove one's seatbelt lit up green, passengers taking liberty of the freedom to use the bathroom and stretch. Luke beamed as the food cart approached down the narrow aisle of the passenger bay. He called to the Professor across the aisle.

"Professor, surely I can have something from this cart? I'm starving!"

"Me too," Flora groaned. "We haven't eaten since 8 this morning."

The Professor laughed lightly. "That was only two hours ago, my dear! If it pleases you so much, I'm sure you can get something small to share."

Elated, the children happily rattled off a few items to the stewardess that they intended to break between them.

"A bag of biscuits, some crisps, and perhaps a banana," Luke said proudly. "Fruit's a must!"

"And two cups of water, please," Flora muttered softly.

The Professor smiled, proud that Luke hadn't gone out of control with food spending.

"I guess I've taught him something—"

"Like how to read prices and add?" Laura chided him under her breath.

"Here you are, young man. £17 will be charged to the account associated with your ticket," the stewardess said cheerily, a fake smile at her lips as she handed the boy his prizes. Professor Layton coughed and scowled, making him splutter over his words.

"W-What? £17? The boy only bought a couple of light snacks!"

"Sir, the cost of petrol has caused many prices to increase, and the air travel industry is not exempt. The prices for food on all flights are clearly shown on the side of our carts for your convenience." She pulled the cart forward, the prices in plain view. Layton rested his elbow on the arm rest and leaned against his hand, covering his eyes in disbelief.

"£5 for a banana…"

"Can I interest you in a beverage, sir? We are serving alcohol on this flight, if you so choose to imbibe. I will warn you, however, that the airline has the right to restrict the sale of alcohol to any individual should the airline decide that the individual has consumed over his or her personal limit, thus becoming intoxicated."

Smiling weakly, the Professor shook his head. "No, thank you, miss. I'll do just fine without." He waited until she was out of earshot before turning to Laura, clearly agitated. "I was afraid to order tea. I might get charged for every minute I steep it!"

Laura laughed. "They get you on anything they can. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Well, at least they are happy," he noted, motioning to Luke and Flora, enjoying their snacks and plugging earphones into an animated film that was playing on the small screen hanging from the ceiling several rows ahead. "And they won't be able to hear us, which is what I was aiming for."

"How did you explain to them why any of this is currently happening? Surely you didn't tell them it's merely for leisure?"

"Nonsense. I just said that you needed some assistance with your business, and it required me to venture to the Italian peninsula. When I told them they needed to accompany us, they graciously accepted."

"Can't say I blame them," she shrugged.

Nodding, he tapped his armrest impatiently, as if waiting for his thoughts to begin whirring around in his head, preparing to brain storm. "Now then. I did some thinking late last night, and I have a few things to point out, as well as questions. We should lower our voices though, just to be sure no one is picking up our conversation."

"Shoot," Laura whispered. "I've got answers."

"First of all, I think it's safe to assume that Mr. Leopold Chancey had an agenda all along, given his sudden change in interests. Specifically, I believe he was searching for oil from the moment he contacted you. It answers the question of why he was so preoccupied with oceans, and why he wanted a drill to specifically work in the ocean. I'm not 100% sold on this theory, but it goes without saying that it's highly probable."

Laura nodded slowly, taking in his words. "Indeed, I thought likewise."

"Secondly, I continue to find it odd that many of those involved were released from their duties, yet you were kept around. You mentioned that several who were let go were recognized and well-versed in their field, so to speak. In no way am I trivializing your skills or questioning your engineering ken, but it still seems odd all the same that those more experienced in terms of how long they have actually been involved in their trade were not used for their immense knowledge. Even you admitted this." He eyed her suspiciously. "Do you have any idea as to why this was the case?"

"Only the fact that I pretty much built the entire thing myself. I came up with the blueprints, the initial logistics for where the drill could be placed…things like that. Others mostly just did my dirty work, meaning the trivial things, or helping work out kinks. Not that those things are simple, but… It was my work, my machine. I understood it the very best, as it was built on my methodology."

"I understand." The Professor placed his hand to his chin, contemplatively looking at the back of the seat in front of him. "I suppose that is fair to say. Just to get my bearings, tell me what we are going to Italy for, so that I can continue thinking about all this further."

Laura sighed, resting her back against the cushioned seat. "Ah yes, I suppose I didn't really elaborate on that, did I? I'm assigned to install a drill there. I'm meeting with the engineers in central Rome, then we're heading to the coast."

"Any reason for Italy?"

"Well, most importantly, and obviously—as I am installing a drill, after all—Leopold has pretty solid proof of an oil reserve near the coast. Secondly, I've heard that he apparently used to live along the ocean with his parents. Guess he's a bit nostalgic? Who knows, really. Just a guess," she trailed off with a half shrug. "I suppose I'm dragging you along to maybe do some investigating. That's what you do best, right?"

Layton looked over at Luke and Flora, who together let out a combined shrill giggle. "I suppose so… Oh yes, and finally, I have one more thing. I've been wondering about this since the moment I opened it." He pulled a folded envelope out of his pocket. Certainly, it had seen better days, given the heavy creasing and indentations over the surface, but it wasn't completely tattered. "This. The strange paper that you sent to my flat just days ago."

Laura's eyes instinctively roved about the cabin, double checking that no one was looking in on them. "It won't matter even if you took it out. It's blank, as it will remain until you give it direction."

"D…Direction?" Layton stammered, looking at her inquisitively. "Whatever do you mean?"

"However, we must be extremely quiet about it. Preferably, I'd like to talk about this elsewhere…"

"If it's really that important, then it can wait. I don't want this all to be put in jeopardy so soon."

With a small giggle, Laura snorted. "You intend to put it in jeopardy later then?"

"No, not my meaning, but…"

"Just giving you a hard time. I guess I lied about being troublesome." She opened her messenger bag and pulled out a small notepad and a pencil. "Some food for thought, for the remainder of the flight."

She scribbled something hurriedly on the notepad's white surface. Layton half expected something magical to happen, as was the case with the white page inside the envelope he was still holding. Laura ripped the paper from the binding and handed it to him, grinning.

"No talk about it now. But here's a grade school note. Aren't you going to reprimand me for passing around notes?"

Scoffing slightly, the Professor read the memo quickly, raising his eyebrows as he finished it.

Knowing you, I wouldn't doubt that you're aware about it, at least to some degree.

Ever heard of the Book of Memory?

END.

Tee hee hee. Review!