Challenge: Alternate Professions. Although this is techincally more an Alternate Universe.
Author: subdivided
Disclaimer: DEATH NOTE isn't mine.
Vienna, 1875
The floor was awash in color, ladies in bright dresses performing exactly the steps of what had - several months ago - been England's newest dance sensation. Their escorts, clad in either tuxedos or the considerably stiffer black uniforms of the Imperial Regimen, followed. Raito hid a yawn behind one elegantly gloved hand. Leaning casually against the wall, he surveyed the room.
A dumpy older woman was walking toward him. The hostess, Raito assumed, although they hadn't yet been formally introduced. Usually the unattractive ones were.
"Officer," she said, and curtsied.
Raito bowed back, stifling another yawn. "Madam the hostess. Congratulations on an excellent party."
"Is it, though?" she asked, and Raito noticed for the first time that under the thick makeup her eyes were sharp. "You seem bored, if you don't mind my saying so."
Raito couldn't help it. He laughed. "Forgive me, Madam. I've just today returned from Bosnia- I'm afraid the stimulation of the past few months has left me rather worn."
"How exciting!" she said. "Come, you must tell us of it!"
Raito allowed himself to be lead across the dance floor; the amused expression on his face somehow did not reach his eyes. His gaze was not on the ballroom at all, but back in Dubrovnik, in a badly lit small room dominated by a narrow wooden table.
Across the table sat the mastermind behind the so-called Christian Revolutionary Army. Vienna's ally, for the time being. He was a strange man, with strange habits which in all likelihood did not include a great deal of sleep.
L. It was the only time Raito could remember feeling challenged.
