Title: Words and Incense
Day/Theme: 20th September/"Chinatown fiction"
Series: Petshop of Horrors
Character/Pairing: Leon, D
Rating: PG

The chamber – Leon always thought of it like that, an artsy-fartsy name for an artsy-fartsy room – was as weird as it always was, perfumed smoke that made him cough and Oriental tapestries (and shit, D, who had tapestries in this day and age?). Leon leant back on his – well, he always sat on it, anyway – sofa and eyed D warily.

"That guy – " he began for the third time, putting his cup of tea down on the table with slightly more force than necessary.

"I told you, Detective," said D, blinking deceptively mild eyes at him, "I know nothing about what happened to poor Mr Clarkson."

Leon snorted and tried to convey some of his total and complete disbelief to D. "The guy got eaten by a giant bird that he bought at your shop, D. At the very least – "

"Mr Clarkson bought the bird of his own free will, Mr Detective." D's tone was sharp and his lips were tightly pursed. "I gave him full, written, strict instructions on how to care for her. If he chose to disregard them, I am not liable."

"Yeah, yeah, you've always got an excuse." Leon rolled his eyes and lifted his boots onto the coffee table. "Do you ever get sued?"

"Certainly not," said D primly. "I am never – Detective! Get those enormous, plodding feet off my table!"

"Whatever," Leon muttered, but he took them off anyway. "Not much at the insults, are you, D?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know what they say about men with big feet…" Leon restrained himself from adding "nudge nudge, wink wink", but D only raised a frosty eyebrow.

"I do not," he said icily, his tone indicating that he cherished this ignorance.

"Never mind." D was fucking weird, but that wasn't anything new under the sun.

He remembered suddenly what he was there for. "Hey. D. How many of your customers die?"

D sighed expressively. "All of them, at the last count."

"What?" Leon was on his feet, staring at D. "No way!" That wasn't – he remembered – but D never worried about anyone –

"My dear detective." D was looking bewildered. "Of course they will die. It is the way of things."

"Of things? What things?" Leon grabbed the collar of D's dress and yanked him upwards to glare at him better. "The way of what things?"

"The way of everything," D replied calmly, gazing into Leon with his strange eyes. "Everything dies, Leon, some things sooner than others."

Leon released him slowly, badly shaken by D's cold, harsh gentleness. "Stupid-ass word games," he said weakly, sinking back onto the couch.

"Humans have such a limited outlook," D agreed – at least, Leon thought he was agreeing. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"I think I'd better go," he said, struggling up from the sofa.

"Yes," murmured D, taking his arm and leading him to the door. "Don't forget your jacket, Detective."

"No," he said absently, "I won't." He shook his head again. "Why d'you always have that damn incense going, D?"

"It calms the animals." D smiled at him, sweet and merciless. "Are you calm, Mr Detective?"

"I'm not an animal, D," he protested as D ushered him out onto the street. The cold air hit him like a tonic and he spun round as D's last words reached his ears.

"Are you not, my dear detective?"

He took a step forward to go back inside, but D had already closed the door.