"Idiot," Silver mutters, unintentionally thinking aloud. It takes him a moment to realise his mistake. He sharply lifts his head, meeting Blaze's calm gaze with embarrassment. "O-oh!"
"Who is the idiot?"
"N-not you, Detective!"
"I'm glad to hear that," is her mild, amused reply from her desk. It's a relief just to have him say something, finally.
"Uhh…" He recovers, glancing down at the magazine beside his sandwich. "That actor guy."
"I know a few of those."
"Blue hedgehog. Runs around at high speeds. Fights people in robot costumes." A chuckle. "He's got a fox sidekick I sympathise with, because people call him a freak for being different." Too much information, Silver reminds himself whilst chuckling nervously, now. "The fox flies with his tails. The bad guy has an incredible moustache."
"You mean Sonic."
"Yeah, that one. Total moron."
"His sidekick is Tails."
"Eh, right."
"And the villain is Eggman."
"You, um, watch this show?"
A shy nod.
"That's kind of endearing, Detective."
She clears her throat. "What makes Sonic idiotic?"
"Doesn't strike me as the smart type."
"Evidently?"
"Besides that, this interview makes him sound so full of himself, it's unreal."
"Oh?"
"Like his pretend heroics are somehow actually making the world a better place and so he deserves to have his own show. Like we should all be thanking him. Like Tails played no part."
"I doubt Sonic means any harm."
"Maybe not, but it bugs me, anyway. The interview outright calls him a hero! I mean, for what? And what about Tails or the other characters?"
"Maybe Sonic inspires people."
"Maybe this interview is biased." An aggravated huff. "Keeps calling him 'handsome' and there's a lot of focus on his eyes. Are they really so great, Detective?"
She feels her temperature rise, much of the heat sourced in each cheek.
"He doesn't even take admiration with any modesty! He seemed full of himself in his own show, not that I've seen much of it, but it looks like that's actually the way he is. Arrogant and pampered."
"Ah."
Silver grumbles a few more additions before saying legibly, and with disdain made clearer by the roll of his bright eyes, "He's got another season of that rubbish upcoming. Ha, so much for art, right? Apparently, the audience loves him. Children, I could understand. But so many adoring, adult fans?"
"You… dislike Sonic's show."
"I dislike Sonic's goofy, arrogant face, too. Green eyes included. Who even wrote this? Wow, Amy Rose?"
"Amy Rose?"
"Amy Rose! She ditched the crime scenes to interview and write about Sonic?"
Blaze doesn't know how to respond. Instead she inadvertently stares, watching her coworker become uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
"Um, about what I said earlier."
"Huh?"
"If you like the show, that's fine." Silver fidgets with the sleeve of his suit, awkward. He assumes he has upset her.
"You know, I can run like Sonic."
"Oh, yeah!" The pale, telekinetic hedgehog is suddenly excited, grinning, relieved not to have insulted the cat. "I've seen photographs of the impressions of your footsteps, on fire!"
"Mm."
"I hope I get to see you run in person, someday! That'd be incredible!"
"I could carry you."
He almost chokes.
"But I don't run much, nowadays."
"Oh."
She regrets talking.
"Not even in your free time?"
"I'm tired in my free time." Why does she keep talking?
"Maybe you could try getting more rest? More sleep?"
She grits her teeth, visible only as a subtle tensing of her jaw. Shutting herself up.
He assesses her closely, despite the distance between them.
She is unbothered by this, for some reason.
"You don't mean physically tired, do you, Detective?"
Her jaw relaxes.
"It's something deeper than that."
"I'm not free, like he is."
"Why not?"
"I feel heavy inside. Too heavy to run, most of the time."
Silver blinks, processing this admission.
"That's what I like about Sonic, though. He allows me to dream. To imagine myself to be someone like him."
"Someone not-heavy."
"Yes."
Silence, for another moment.
"I think I could run, again, for you."
Silence, again.
"Detective."
"Silver."
"You're better than Sonic."
"Thank you."
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"No."
"You deserve your own show. And I'd watch it. And it'd be awesome."
It's their lunchbreak and they're having it inside on account of the rain.
"Th-thank you so, so much for agreeing to meet me, S-Sonic."
"Not a problem. Happy to. Say, do you always stutter, or is it just me?"
"J-just you! Hahahahaha!"
"Heh. Flattered."
"Really?!"
"Sure! By the way, love the dress. Really brings out your quills."
"Hahahahaha! Aaaah…"
His eyes are surely the loveliest green. His smile, surely, the whitest and most perfect of smiles. His manner assertive and yet, surely, the epitome of gentlemanliness.
Amy is weak at the knees just being close enough to smell his cologne. This interview – the pinnacle of her journalistic career, is close enough to a date that she wonders if it might lead to more. He's so… dreamy! So… charming!
He is quick to pull out a chair, too. "After you."
She collapses into it, mumbling her womanly gratitude.
He snaps his fingers for the waitron whilst casually taking his seat across from her. "Red or white?"
"I… I'd like a glass of red, please."
"I shoulda known." His eyebrows wiggle. "How 'bout the whole bottle?"
She fans herself with the menu. How is she to handle this? She's glad she wrote her questions down. She can hardly focus.
He barks the order and the waiter elegantly marches away, leaving them alone. The actor then leans over the table, pushing the floral centrepiece aside so she may give him her full, trembling attention. Allows a moment to pass before he coos, "Where'd you like to start?"
She drops her menu, rendered helpless by his wink.
"Why don't you have a car?"
"Seems wasteful for a guy like me. I don't need it and I don't like driving."
"You prefer public transport?"
"Sometimes. Other times, I walk. Other times, still, I levitate. Then there are times I travel with you." Silver pauses to shyly rub his cheek. "My favourite is the latter."
"Why?"
"Um, why?"
"Yes, why?"
"Uh. You're such pleasant company, Detective."
"I… appreciate you saying that, Silver."
He stares at the road ahead, hardly able to believe he said so much. But her gentle response relieves him, almost liberates him of some internal restraint.
"You are… charming, in your own way."
"Oh, yeah?" His heart is dancing.
"You're also very strong. Not in the stereotypical sense, although I'm sure you are physically fit, also." Blaze cringes internally. What is the matter with her?
"I'm… okay, I suppose. In the physical sense. Not a total athlete like you, though!"
They're in a nice neighbourhood with large, neat homes and green, trimmed lawns, children playing behind fences under the supervision of chatting neighbours. They'll reach his street, soon.
It reminds her of her own tiny, shabby apartment – a box, like he said, although he didn't know. He hasn't seen her box. Would he pity her, like he pitied the corpse?
How different their worlds are.
Shadow's eyes arrest Blaze from across the bar. Although generally a background fixture in Rouge's life, his visible presence is always a pleasant surprise.
The bat herself is chatting quietly to him, polishing a glass whilst he runs a cloth over the counter.
He nods as the approaching cat.
She smiles subtly back. Takes her usual seat at the counter. When Rouge doesn't stop talking the cat says pleasantly, "Hello, you two."
The bat, suddenly aware of the cat, makes a startled little sound before unexpectedly slapping the dark hedgehog's arm with the cloth.
Shadow grunts.
"Why didn't you tell me she'd been waiting?"
"Hardly. She only just arrived."
"You sure? She hasn't been quietly, patiently waiting for a drink for a minute or two whilst you stood there, handsomely letting me talk too much?"
"I know better than to interrupt you."
"Sorry for making you wait, kitten." Rouge adores him in her own abrasive way. It's what makes her smile so warmly when her cold eyes settle on his angular profile. "What can I get you tonight?"
"I'll have the usual."
With a quiet smirk he turns to retrieve a tall glass, leaving her to scowl with admiration at his backside.
"Is he giving you trouble?"
"Ugh. If he weren't so pretty, I'd not keep him."
"Humph."
Blaze is admiring him, too. Less brazenly.
"What if I fired you, handsome? Would you be so clever, then?"
"Technically, I'm not an employee, here," is his calm reply upon his return with a suitable glass, filling it at the tap.
The cat thanks him when the glass is pushed her way, their fingers momentarily brushing together.
"You think that because you're so incredibly handsome…"
"You've given him reason to feel such entitlement."
"What's wrong with a little positive reinforcement through the occasional compliment?"
The hedgehog returns to wiping the counter, his sinuous, purposeful movements unintentionally distracting.
"Well! Regardless!" The bat lowers her brows at the cat. "You're late."
"I'm usually late."
"But you're later than usual."
"My 'boss' gets fidgety when you aren't here."
"Stay out of this one, handsome. You're in trouble, remember?"
"Why?"
"Because!"
"Typical."
They're beautiful people. The type of beauty that sets them apart. Together, they're an intriguing, potent mystery Blaze has spent years mentally trying to untangle.
"Don't mind him." Satisfied with the gleam of the glass, Rouge sets it away before she tosses the cloth aside, leaning forward to murmur, "I think he's in need of a thorough spanking when we get home."
Shadow is evidently used to countering such threats with a quirk of his brow – whether they manifest themselves privately, or not.
The muffled sounds of a couple arguing next door. These thin walls afford little privacy – the arguing couple and rare complaints directed toward Blaze's hardly existent love-life would attest to that.
The cat reclines in her beat-up old chair with her eyes closed, her body naked, listening to their arguing. The old ache of loneliness is making her internally restless, but on the outside, she seems calmly asleep to it.
Silver stares down the length of the ridiculously large, empty dinner table, a glass of wine and its accompanying bottle beside him, his homemade dinner growing cold. He gets distracted picturing faces filling the seats.
His family members. Chatting, smiling, free of disappointment and disapproval, getting along for a change. Tossing him the compliments, wisdom, and encouragement he craves.
His solitary ex-girlfriend in that same outfit she wore the day she left him, trying not to cry, longing for his affection once more. Gratifying his crueller side.
The attractively androgynous face of his mentor, her bright eyes fixated upon him, untamed, communicating curiosity and desire. She says nothing because he cannot imagine what she'd say, to look at him so.
It's good enough for him to picture her like this, as if she finds him the most interesting and worthwhile person in the world. It makes him so happy inside. He really could do with more happiness. It's okay. It's fine. It's natural. There's nothing wrong, here.
The other faces gradually disappear.
Finally her image is the only one left.