Maka runs. It isn't far between her apartment and Soul's, and she's off like a shot, feet pounding, breathing steady - it's remarkably similar to the morning runs she used to take before this whole mess, except for the frantic jolt of worry squirming through her. She takes a few alley shortcuts that she normally wouldn't even consider taking at this time of night, cop or not, and then she's there. Her first urge is to take the stairs as fast as she can, but there's no telling what might be waiting for her at the top, so she slows, taking deep, measured breaths.

It could be a trap. Perhaps, despite her caution, she's been found out, and they're luring her back to her apartment using Tsubaki - Maka stops herself. There's no use getting carried away, she tells herself and finds it much easier to say than to believe. Maka double checks Soul's gun and takes the stairs quickly, but quietly. She sees no one in the halls, which is unsurprising given the time of night, but still reassuring to a small degree. The door doesn't appear to be damaged in any way.

She tries the knob gently, but it's still locked. Fumbling for keys as quietly as she can, she turns the lock and holds her breath, waiting for the soft click of tumblers falling into place. Maka exhales softly - doorknob again, then a careful shoulder against the wood, gun up and ready she inches the door open. Their living room comes into view in pieces - coat rack, tv, coffee table, Tsubaki's feet...she can't see anyone next to her, but she doesn't want to take the chance. She continues to scan the room, door slipping open silently.

"Oh, Maka!" Tsubaki is up and off the couch the moment she notices her roommate, and Maka has just enough time to put the safety back on Soul's gun before Tsubaki grabs her and pulls her the rest of the way into the apartment.

"Tsubaki, are you alright? What happened?" Maka makes sure that the door is locked before setting down the 9mm on the coffee table. Her roommate's eyes are red-rimmed, but mostly dry.

"I think I've made a huge mistake," she says, slumping back down onto the couch. Of all the scenarios that had flashed through Maka's head on her panicked sprint home, this was not one of them.

"What? Why?" Maka makes the switch from cop to best friend with only a little difficulty. "Do I need to hurt someone?" Ok, so perhaps a little more difficulty than she had initially thought.

Tsubaki's stuttered, "I-I don't know," chills her. "I've been...seeing someone and it was going really well."

Maka definitely senses a "but" about to occur. "Is this a thing that I should be getting us wine for?" she asks.

Tsubaki shakes her head as she takes a deep breath. "No, no. It's..." she lets out a sigh. "I'm just going to get this all out at once, ok?"

"Ah, okaay?"

Next to her, Tsubaki shifts slightly, and Maka does the supportive-best-friend-hand-rest-on-the-knee. The adrenaline coursing through her system slowly begins to dissipate as it becomes readily more apparent that her best friend is distraught but not actually in danger.

"So there was this guy who started coming into the diner a while back, sometimes by himself and sometimes with a friend, and he was a little strange and kind of loud, but he was always a gentleman to me, and in the diner that's not a thing that really happens a lot, you know?" Maka nods. "He...asked me out a few times, and I said no, and he kept asking - but not in that creepy way that some guys do - he was really sweet and kept finding different ways to ask and he made me laugh, and I finally said yes."

She takes a deep breath, and Maka squeezes her hand, intent on her roommate's face. "Did he try something? Do I need to bust his kneecaps or call the precinct down on him?"

"N-no." It's not quite the firm denial that Maka expects, and the foreboding feeling in her stomach increases. "No, I mean, he really was a gentleman. He took me out a couple of times, and..." Tsubaki's face went scarlet.

"Oh. Ohhh." Mostly, Maka's just surprised. Her roommate hides her face in her hands and nods. Tsubaki's unmade bed, her early morning phone call - it's obvious in a way that makes Maka want to hide her own face.

"I know," she mumbles into her palms.

While she's never known Tsubaki to be the girl who goes in for casual sex, Maka's not entirely sure that she understands what, precisely, the problem is. By her roommate's own words, everything was consensual, and Tsubaki's an adult, fully capable of making her own choices about who and when and where she has sex. Maka is not by nature a delicate person, and she can't stop herself as she blurts, "And why's this a problem?"

Tsubaki's cheeks are damp when she finally looks back up. "It's not! That's the problem!" Maka didn't think it was possible to be more confused. "I mean the sex was - wow, but that's not the point. The point is that he came into the diner tonight!"

Maka blinks. "And you didn't want to see him?"

"No...I wanted to see him." Tsubaki's look is pained. "What I didn't want to see was Soul with him."

Maka's heart stutters for a moment, stops, and then double times. "What." Even to her ears, her voice sounds flat and hard. There had been only one other person Soul had been out with tonight besides her. Next to her, Tsubaki winces.

"He - I didn't know - "

Maka takes a deep breath, then another, but it doesn't feel like enough air. Her gut reaction is to lash out at her friend - this is the kind of thing that ruins cases, that endangers people. Except that Tsubaki's not a cop like Maka is, and she would never have done anything that would endanger them or their case intentionally, and what she's really mad at is herself for putting Tsubaki in this kind of position.

"I know, Tsubaki," she manages, voice surprisingly level. "It's ok. You're sure you're alright?"

She hangs her head again. "He really was a perfect gentleman," she wails. Maka works hard to keep the skeptical look off her face. It has to be Black*Star, but she can't quite reconcile the concept of "gentleman" with the brash and bawdy mobster that she's become acquainted with.

"And you're sure it was Soul?" she asks instead.

"I've never seen him before, but you've described him enough, and Black*Star called him 'Eater'. You know anyone else that goes by that name?"

It's Maka's turn to wince. She had been holding out a little bit of hope, but Tsubaki confirms her fears. "You just called him Black*Star, didn't you?" Tsubaki nods. Maka bites back a sigh. "Then it had to be Soul he was with." That feeling of failure is back; she had wanted Tsubaki to help her do a loose profile of Black*Star, but in the upheaval of her new partnership, and the fact that Kid had just gotten back to her with the mobster's file - it had never happened. And now this. "Has he ever come here?"

Tsubaki shakes her head. "No, never. He doesn't even know the address or building."

"Good." She still kind of wants to yell at someone, preferably herself. "I'd better call Soul and let him know what's going on."

Tsubaki nods her agreement, head hanging in her hands again. She peeks through her hair at Maka, gesturing at the coffee table. "Is that - that's not your gun, is it?"

Maka pauses, the borrowed glock mocking her from the coffee table. "Um."

The brunette perks up a little. "Did Soul lend you his gun?"

"Maybe." She refuses to acknowledge the fact that she can feel the back of her neck flushing slightly. A cop's gun is tantamount to a sacred item. She doubts that that's much different for FBI guys. "It's a spare," she mumbles, hitting Soul's speed dial. Tsubaki just gives her a little grin, even if it's a fraction of what it is normally. Maka scowls at her, but there's no real heat behind it. "I still can't believe you slept with Black*Star," she deflects.

On the other end of the line, the ringing stops and Soul's shocked voice says, "What?"

Tsubaki makes the three of them tea. Maka's not sure how that happened exactly - just that one minute she'd let her partner in, and the next, Tsubaki had escaped to put on the electric kettle.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Maka hisses at her partner, barely resisting the urge to prod him in the ribs.

Soul at least has the grace to look abashed. "I was going to mention it when we got to the club, but then Blair and - "

"You could've texted me."

"I wasn't positive! All I had to go on was her name, and that doesn't seem like the kind of thing that you send a text message to your partner about unless you're absolutely sure!"

She admits that he does at least have a point, though grudgingly. "I don't like being blindsided by this stuff. Besides, how many 'Tsubaki's can there be in this city?"

"I wanted to be sure," he huffs, and Maka relaxes her arms a little.

"I suppose not much could have been done at that point, anyway," she concedes. Maka scoots her papers out of the way as Tsubaki tries to set down three coffee mugs full of something that smells honeyed and soothing and a little leafy. Soul takes one of the mugs from her in a manner that Maka can only describe as gentlemanly. It looks foreign, but not strange, and the thought sets Maka's head spinning just a little.

Tsubaki claims the armchair, curling up in it, hands wrapped around her mug. "I'm really sorry," she says again, and Maka winces.

"Tsubaki, there's nothing to be sorry about - "

"But I put you in danger!"

Maka's smile twists her mouth. "Not any more than we would be in normally." She means it as reassurance, but as soon as the words slip out of her mouth, she can tell they're the exact wrong ones. Tsubaki's face clouds over in a way that she hasn't seen in...well, she knows to the day when the last time Tsubaki had that particular look on her face. "That's not - I mean - "

The couch springs creak as Soul shifts and slurps a little from his mug. Maka shoots him a sideways glance that he's only only guessing on how to interpret. He breathes through a quiet sigh and sets down his mug.

"The fact of the matter is, Ms. Nakatsukasa - "

"Tsubaki." Even on edge, she's polite in her insistence.

"...Tsubaki. The fact of the matter is that our jobs always involve a certain amount of danger." The look she gives him is unamused at best. "Which I know you know," he adds quickly, "but all I can do is reassure you that you haven't done any harm to our investigation or put your friend in any unnecessary danger." Soul gives her a small, soft smile. "I'm doing all that I can to keep Maka safe."

Tsubaki doesn't look particularly convinced, but after a few tense moment, she nods. "Alright. I will...not worry about it so much."

Maka frowns and half opens her mouth to object. She doesn't need Soul to keep her safe - but Soul's words look like they're actually having an effect on her roommate, and the last thing that she wants is for Tsubaki to feel guilty about a circumstance that was beyond her control. She clamps down on her initial response and stands with her mug, "We'll keep each other safe," she corrects.

Armed with her tea and multiple assurances, Tsubaki visibly begins to relax, and Maka feels her own tension lessen somewhat. She excuses herself to the kitchen, allowing Tsubaki the space to speak freely with Soul without Maka's tendency to hover.

"I wish I had more information to give," she says. "Ah - he really likes pie? He never really spoke about work. To be fair, I never really asked." She flushes a little and gives Soul a sidelong glance. "I can't believe that I didn't connect the dots, though."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Maka talks about me a lot, then?"

"I most certainly do not," Maka announces from the kitchen. She shuts off the faucet and dries her mug, deciding she doesn't like the burgeoning smirk on her partner's face one bit.

"She's maybe mentioned you once or twice," Tsubaki says, smiling slightly. Maka likes that particular smile on her roommate even less.

Soul chuckles and stands, taking his mug with him. "I'll just assume they were compliments, then."

"What on earth would make you assume that," Maka sniffs as he invades her space.

"Clearly, it's because I'm so charming."

"You're obnoxious is what you are," she retorts, taking his mug from him. "Speaking of obnoxious, were you able to find anything on that bug?"

"I hardly had the chance. I'll finish analyzing it when I get back to my place."

Maka nods and turns off the faucet. Soul already has the dishrag out, and motions for the mug. She doesn't grumble when she hands it over, and she pointedly ignores the eyeball that Tsubaki gives her from the living room. "Sounds good. I'll take a look at the dossier Kid sent me tonight and tomorrow, and see what else we can come up with on our friend Black*Star."

Tsubaki joins them in the kitchen a moment later, and gives Maka a swift hug. "I'll go ahead and leave you two to talk business. I'm feeling pretty wiped."

Maka frowns a little. "You don't have to go, Tsubaki, Soul was just getting ready to head back."

"Mm, yeah. I got a lot of work to get through, still."

"No, it's fine...I appreciate you coming over, Soul," Tsubaki says with a smile and a slight incline of her head.

"It's no trouble at all," he replies, and then Tsubaki's out of the kitchen and shutting her door before Maka can say goodnight. Beside her, Soul snorts faintly. "Fast exit," he comments mildly.

"She does that sometimes." Maka scowls a little at her completely unsubtle roommate's door. She runs Tsubaki's mug under the faucet. "I guess, if you wanted, we could go ahead and go over Black*Star's info tonight? There might be something on there that would have more context for you than me."

"As long as you're cool with waiting on analyzing the bug." He gives her a little grin, "And maybe making some popcorn?"

"I think I can wait a few extra hours, but I am not making you popcorn."

"Aw, c'mon. The popcorn would make me feel better," he wheedles when she ignores him, and Maka raises an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're ridiculous," she announces, but turns and rummages through a cabinet. She slings a bag of Orville Redenbacher at him. "Knock yourself out. I trust you can find the microwave alright." Maka thinks that maybe the smile he shoots her is worth the small hassle, and she'll just have to trust that he won't burn it. Besides, the last of the adrenaline is finally fading from her system, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little hungry as a result.

Maka detours into her room to grab a spare notepad and raid her desk for a working pen. She contemplates her sleep shirt in a heap next to her bed, but decides to forgo comfort for the moment.

Satisfied, she settles on the couch and waits for Soul, the smell of popcorn and the sight of the unopened folder taunting her. The microwave beeps, and Soul plops down next to her, steaming bag in hand. He doesn't bother asking about a bowl, but he had brought some paper towels. Maka cracks open the envelope as Soul shakes out some popcorn onto one of them.

The dossier is smaller than she thought that it would be. The impression that she had gotten from the club and from Soul was one of Black*Star: Hardcore Badass. In her experience, hardcore badasses tended to have more on file than this. Maka found, however, that what it lacked in size was more than made up for in content

Black*Star was very much a product of his environment. Brought up by his father until he was nearly six, that was apparently enough time to instill good old-fashioned gang values in him. Maka still remembers the infamous Star Clan gang and the worried looks her mother would give her father every time his division of the Bureau got called into to be active on RICO cases.

She also remembers when White*Star died, suddenly and mysteriously, and the Star Clan ceased to exist with startling speed. Maka hadn't thought about it in years, but as she reads over Black*Star's file, something tickles at the back of her brain. Something also tickles the side of her neck, and she exhales slowly, and tries very hard to ignore the way that Soul peers over her shoulder.

After his father's untimely death, Black*Star grew up in and out of foster care until age 16. His file contains an impressive list of juvenile misdemeanors and court appearances-destruction of property, trespassing-pretty standard, Maka notes. He was adopted at 16 by one Sid Barrett, who Maka vaguely knows from talk around the precinct. Guy has a soft spot for rehabilitating troubled youth, and she can easily see why Sid had picked out Black*Star.

Not, she thought, that it did much good.

"Hey, go back a sec," Soul's voice breaks through her concentration. Her pen leaves a small splatter of ink, but doesn't affect any of her careful notes. She reins in her glare, but flips back the page. His breath smells like fake butter, and she gives up, pushing the pages into Soul's hands. She leans forward to scoop up a handful of still-hot popcorn and crunches it thoughtfully. Soul skims the page intently. "You know, I thought I might be able to add something to this, but this file has way more shit on Black*Star than I do."

Maka shrugs a little. "This is all early stuff. You wouldn't have been around for it, and as much as Black*Star seems to like the sound of his own voice, I can't really see him as the type to go mouthing off about his childhood."

"Mm." Soul points to a line on the first page. "Does this seem strange to you?" Maka leaned back and peered at the text. "The Star Clan just...what? Dissolved? Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

That tickling sensation is a little stronger. "No, it's - well, 'very unusual' doesn't really cut it. I don't know much about the crime rates for that particular era, either. I picked up bits and pieces from my dad, but..." she trails off, gives the paper another look. "What are the odds that no one would step up to take over the Star Clan?"

"They were well organized and entrenched in the area...I'd say pretty slim. I'd need to pull some of our gang task-force files to confirm, but if I'm remembering right, Star Clan had a solid rep for being rough and powerful. That's not the type of gang that just disappears."

She hums a little. "I'd be interested to see if there was any appreciable drop in crime after they disbanded."

Soul shoots her a small grin, eyes tracing the curve of her neck and the drape of her hair. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Maka crunches a few more pieces of popcorn, lost in her thoughts. There were a lot of possibilities and factors at work, but there was one thing that her head seemed to wrap around. "You're thinking that the Star Clan might have been the first gang to fall to Arachnophobia, aren't you?"

"I am," he says, irrationally pleased that she's just as quick witted as he had thought. Maka makes a thoughtful noise and sticks the tip of her tongue out just enough so that Soul can tell she's doing it. As far as he can tell, it's completely unconscious. It's also completely distracting.

"Interesting," she murmurs. "Can we use it?"

"I don't know," he admits. "The logic is sound, but we'd need something more concrete than a shared hunch." She frowns a little at that, tongue disappearing.

"Do you have contacts you can still get information from in the Bureau about the incident?"

"Maybe. What about your dad? Didn't you say that he worked that case?" Soul knows the minute it comes out of his mouth that he's said something wrong. Maka's shoulders tense and he can practically see the tic in her jaw.

"That's...not really an option," she says, words measured. She doesn't flinch from his gaze, doesn't glare.

There is just a careful neutrality, and so he nods and says, "I'll see if there's anything I can come up with."

She relaxes marginally and Soul glances down at his friend's file. It's weird in a way because that's what it feels like - his friend's file. He's struggled with the idea before a little - this concept that Black*Star is something more than the sucker who got him his "in" to Arachnophobia. He's loud and brash and obnoxious at the best of times, but he's also fierce in his loyalty. He thinks of the way the mobster stepped in against Giriko; Black*Star is a man who follows his own path, and Soul's come to accept the fact that he respects and considers Black*Star to be a friend. At the moment, aside from Maka, Black*Star is just about the only friend he has.

Briefly, he wonders if that's something they can use, and mentions it to Maka. She taps her pen against her lips, and he ignores the bad taste the words leave in his mouth.

"It's possible," she murmurs. "He works for Arachnophobia, but he's managed to keep his nose legally clean since he turned 18 - I wonder how much he really cares about Arachnophobia and how much he's using them to get whatever it is he wants." Maka shoots him a ghost of a smile, but her eyes are piercing. "You're supposed to be his favored minion, aren't you? What does he really want?"

Soul's lips twist, but there's no humor in the expression. "That is the million dollar question, isn't it?" He rubs the bridge of his nose.

They spend another half an hour looking over Black*Star's written history, but it feels more like chasing their own tails than making any sort of progress. Maka sighs as she rereads the same sentence for the fourth time.

Soul leans slightly and nudge her shoulder with his. "Call it a night?"

She jumps a little and gives him a wide-eyed look. "Um. Yeah. That's probably going to be for the best." Her lips quirk upwards. "I think I'm too tired to concentrate on this anymore."

"Me too." He stands, gives the dossier a faint glare. "I'm going to leave that with you for now, I think." He pauses and gives her a undecipherable look. "Are you going to be alright if I go ahead and take my gun back?"

Maka nods. "Yeah. I've got my own weapon, you know." She scowls a little. "This job makes it more than a little difficult to keep myself armed, though."

"I imagine it might be looked at a little funny if you came in with a glock strapped to your leg." He grins wickedly. "It'd be pretty fucking hot, though."

He isn't expecting her sly grin as she follows him to the door. "You have no idea." Soul swallows. He wants to have an idea, he realizes. "We still on for tomorrow?"

"Huh? Yeah," he shakes his head and shifts a little, grin fading. He's just barely not scuffing his feet on the rug. "I was thinking I could just swing by tomorrow? Instead of you coming by my place?"

She crosses her arms. "Is this because of some misguided notion of chivalry - that you want to check up on us?"

"No, just me being your partner and looking out for you and yours." Well, when he phrases it like that...

"You can swing by and pick me up," she concedes.

He gives her a toothy grin. "Good. See you around 2:00."

Maka locks up the door behind him, and gives the dossier and the empty bag of popcorn on the table an unimpressed stare before shuffling into her bedroom.