TACO Run

Chapter 39

Therion left the Truthseeker guy's interrogation chamber with tension making the back of his neck ache. And he hated that he was so tense, because the Truthseeker hadn't done anything to make him feel that way, and had even flat-out said that they weren't going to try to arrest him for the thieving he'd done.

But his nerves were still rubbed raw by the experience, no matter how open and honest the Truthseeker guy had been, and even though Therion knew he hadn't been in any real danger, knew that he should have been able to relax…

He'd spent the whole time waiting for a sudden lunge or blow, waiting for the patient, tired questions to become sharp and accusing. Waiting for him to act like a normal city guard.

He… hadn't.

And maybe that was what was setting his nerves on edge. The Truthseeker guy didn't act like a normal city guard. Hells, the other city guards didn't act like guards. They were… personable. Polite—too polite, almost to the point of being deferential, as if Therion weren't some criminal they were prepared to pin down and try to beat the defiance out of.

Not that that had ever worked on him, but most would've at least considered the possibility.

It didn't even seem to have occurred to them. And that was…

It was weird, and Therion couldn't quite make himself believe it. Everything felt real and false at the same time, and he needed to get back to something resembling normalcy before he went insane.

"That bad, huh?" The wry question got a scowl out of him, and Therion looked over to see Alfyn sitting on the floor against the far side of the hall, arms resting loosely across his bent knees as he frowned worriedly up at him. "The Truthseeker seemed like a pretty nice guy to me…"

"He is nice," Therion said blandly as Alfyn heaved himself to his feet. "Too nice. Guardsmen aren't like that."

"His Lordship did say they're different here," Alfyn pointed out, turning to walk beside him as they made their way back to the dining-hall. "And I mean, at least they're different in a good way, y'know?" One arm lifted to rest around Therion's shoulders, but dropped when he shook his head. "Oh, hey, speakin' of, that Biwa guy said he sent out an order for a bunch of food, and it should be here soon. I dunno about you, but I missed lunch, and fightin' monsters works up a mighty appetite!"

Therion's stomach gave a quiet growl of agreement. He'd eaten around noon, but he'd burned right through that while fighting, and it was almost suppertime now between the cleanup and all the questioning they'd gone through. Their clothes should be done drying pretty soon now, right?

"Heh." Alfyn grinned when his own stomach gave a much louder growl, almost a dull roar. "Well, here's hoping whatever he sent out for is good!"

"Assuming they'll share it with us," Therion said dryly. They might not be prisoners, but that didn't mean the guard was obligated to feed them.

"What, you mean you actually care if they want you to have it or not?" Alfyn teased. "And here I was figuring the food'd just magically appear for us offa their plates, if they said no!"

Therion rolled his eyes. "Yes, because I'm really that stupid." Stealing food from the guards in the actual guardhouse while outnumbered six to one.

"What?" Alfyn's grin widened. "It's not like you can't eat the evidence."

Therion snorted. Since when did guards require actual evidence? "Good thing you're not a thief, medicine man. You'd never make it." He did make for a great distraction, though, chatting people up while Therion picked their pockets.

"Nope!" Alfyn agreed easily. "That's why we've got you around, because there's no one else who can do the things you do, buddy!"

"And here I thought it was my sharp wit and charming personality."

Alfyn burst out laughing. "Those too!"

Shoving open the doors to the dining hall revealed that there were even more guards crowded in there now, most of them surrounding one of the rectangular tables as a couple people laid out stacks of flattish boxes on top of it. One of those people wasn't dressed like the city guard, instead wearing a light jacket in green and blue over their clothes. Probably the porter delivering the food, then, and there'd been enough of it that some of the guards had helped carry it from his wagon to the dining-hall.

"Alright!" Alfyn grinned, and jogged over that way. "Hey, guys, anyone mind if we cut in?"

That got some people turning to look at them, making Therion's shoulders tense up again—when had they started relaxing?—especially when the porter stared at him like he was the one with aurochs-horns, instead of the other way around.

Therion ignored him. Or at least pretended to, walking over as if the only thing on his mind was getting closer to the food, and not making sure he was close enough to use Olberic as a human shield if he needed to. The warrior was standing next to the table, after all, sticking close to Cyrus so they could both use his weird rectangular thing to understand what people said.

"Ah, Therion!" the scholar said brightly once he got close. "How did your interview go? Was the Truthseeker not delightful company?"

"Pretty sure he's got a headache from talking to you," Therion said bluntly, handing Olberic back his translator thing. The porter was still staring at him.

"Oh. Er… really?" Cyrus looked crestfallen. "I suppose I did digress from the relevant topics a bit frequently…"

"Do not worry yourself, Cyrus," Olberic said soothingly. "The Truthseeker is a patient and understanding man." He handed the translator thing over to Alfyn, so the apothecary could communicate with the guards if he wanted. "I do not doubt that he has a headache, but your verbosity is unlikely to be the sole cause."

"I do hope you're right," Cyrus mused worriedly. "I thought I had improved my ability to speak to others inoffensively."

"Being annoying and being offensive aren't the same thing, Prof," Alfyn put in absently, already holding a flimsy-looking plate with a wedge of… some kind of cheese-covered flatbread or something on it. "I mean, not that you're annoying! Uh, just, y'know, not everyone thinks history's as interesting as you do."

"Oh. Er. I suppose I was aware of that…"

Therion tuned them out for a second, instead finally deigning to acknowledge the porter guy who was still staring at him. "What're you looking at?" he demanded crossly.

The porter went bright red, making nonsense noises and scrambling at a pocket for a second before thrusting a handful of paper money at Therion and then sprinting for the exit.

…what the fuck?

"Ooh, I ought to do that," a guardswoman said, eyes dancing wickedly as she watched Therion stare at the paper currency in bemusement.

"He's a thief, Ogushi," one of the guardsmen hissed, scandalized. A large portion of the remainder were snickering, snorting, or laughing outright at the fleeing porter's embarrassment.

"So? I'd let him steal my paycheck," the guardswoman giggled, hair rippling pink and purple. "Yum."

A longsuffering look accompanied a heavy sigh. "Well, at least I know what to get you for your birth-day…"

Cyrus restrained a laugh, fascinated by the byplay and the reactions of the various guardsmen occupying this rather large dining hall. It seemed that in this world, dancers were paid directly, rather than through the masters of the taverns and entertainment-houses at which they might be employed. It also seemed that hiring one for personal entertainment was a common enough occurrence that a porter might reasonably assume Therion had been hired for that purpose.

I do so love this verbal translation ability! he sighed internally. Should we be given the chance, I should like to thank this Kikuchi directly. The Truthseeker's assistance in adding the ability to his phone had made communication far more convenient, and Olberic's explanation of the guard's clerk's method of training the devices was fascinating.

"You want anything, Professor?" Alfyn asked, leaning around Olberic's side and casually waving a flimsy plate. "Mmph. Stuff's called 'pizza', and there's a bunch of different kinds!"

"Oh?" Intrigued, Cyrus followed the tantalizing smell of cheese and hot bread to join his friend, as Therion continued to stare in bafflement at the money thrust upon him.

The 'pizza' appeared to be circular flatbreads, which had been topped with sauce, cheese, and various vegetables or thinly-sliced meats. It had then been cut into wedges, not unlike how pies were sliced in Orsterra. Cyrus accepted a plate with a wedge of pizza on it, and scrutinized the offered piece more closely. Soft. The flatbread appeared to be still hot from the oven, the pale cheese half-melted and stretchy. The sauce—a red variety Cyrus wasn't familiar with—managed to be rich and savory as well as sour and faintly sweet, its flavor obviously a blend of herbs and spices he couldn't hope to name. The toppings had been incorporated into the cheese, and the flatbread his slice had been taken from seemed to be topped with sliced olives and slivers of reddish-purple onion. It was quite delicious, and Cyrus would have exclaimed over it in delight were his mouth not occupied with eating it.

The lack of anything resembling utensils was a slight hurdle he was forced to clamber over, as the pizza was somewhat messy for a food meant to be eaten by hand. But despite the way the cheese stretched once bitten into, and the crust left a thin residue of oil on his fingers, he did manage to maintain something resembling neatness… if not dignity. Alfyn, of course, was eating with great gusto and far less caution or delicacy than Cyrus was attempting. A keen eye discerned that his pizza had been topped with a variety of vegetables, as well as crumbled bits of sausage. When he noticed Cyrus' interest, he grinned and offered to let him try a bite, so that he needn't waste a whole slice if he didn't find it appealing.

Cyrus appreciated the offer, but eating after someone else felt oddly unsanitary, even knowing that Alfyn was a very hygiene-conscious person.

That dilemma was solved by one of the guardsmen, who, upon realizing the issue, offered to cut bites off of untouched slices of each pizza variant present—Cyrus was informed that there were far more varieties in existence than were available here—so that he could sample them. He did so not with fork and knife, but with the use of his 'Quirk', which apparently allowed him to divide anything nonliving which he pointed at into ten equally-sized pieces. Cyrus would have loved to question him about the ability, but was stymied by the interference of another one of the guard, who scolded the man for 'unlicensed Quirk use' and 'setting a bad example'.

So instead, Cyrus turned his contemplation back to the array of samples now arranged on his flimsy plate. The next hour or so was spent in delightful consumption, and Cyrus determined that his favorite combination of toppings was prawns, onions, and slivers of hot peppers, closely followed by a type that had olives, mushrooms, bits of some fleshy vegetable he was unfamiliar with, and thin slices of baked ham.

So focused was he in his scrutiny of flavors and textures that he failed to notice when first Olberic, and then Alfyn, vanished and returned. He didn't even realize they'd been gone until Olberic caught his attention with a gentle shake of his shoulder, and looking up at the warrior made it plain that he had changed back into his usual attire.

"Our clothes are finished being laundered, Cyrus," Olberic said patiently. "Alfyn and I have already dressed ourselves and returned our borrowed clothing, but Therion wishes to wait until you are finished as well before he goes."

Oh. Well. That was odd, as he was aware of how uncomfortable the thief was without pockets at the moment—although, had the stack of paper currency he'd had thrust upon him… grown, somehow? "Thank you, Olberic," Cyrus said, popping the last savory bite of pizza—this one had a cream-based sauce rather than a red one on it, as well as chunks of soft, savory young chicken and fatty bacon—into his mouth, and then wiped his fingers with a napkin. "I do recall the way to the privies, but are my belongings waiting there, or should I ask after them…?"

Olberic smiled faintly, and held out a bundle of clothes and shoes. "Your bag is still here," he said, nodding towards where the bright-green drawstring sack rested on a table's bench-seat. "And Therion has said he will mind it while you are gone."

"Why, thank you, Therion!" Cyrus beamed at the thief gratefully. "I shall return as swiftly as I may, so that you need not wait too long."

A short nod was all the response he got, as Therion gathered all of their possessions close to his person and eyed the wedge of pizza Alfyn had set on a plate near him. Cyrus believed it to be the type that had slices of ham and some strange yellow fruit atop it. An odd, but not unpleasant combination, though the tingle the sweet fruit left on lips and tongue was particularly bizarre.

As he left the dining-hall accompanied by the guardsman named Biwa, Cyrus caught a glimpse of the guardswoman with color-changing hair pulling a folded leather wallet from one of her pockets.

"Thank you again for this," Naomasa sighed, rubbing his forehead again and wishing he dared take more headache medicine. "I know it's kind of last-minute, and a pretty big burden for you, all things considered."

"Are you kidding? It's exciting!" Master Kamiya bounced on her toes for a moment, blue eyes sparkling. "Mister Olberic's talked a little bit about his friends, and they sounded really interesting."

"Interesting…" Naomasa winced. That was an understatement. "Chief Tsuragamae should have informed you of the… unusual circumstances, right?"

"Mm-hm." If the thought of literally otherworldly visitors bothered her, she didn't show it. "It explains a lot."

"It does," Naomasa admitted. There'd only been so much they could do to downplay Olberic's complete unfamiliarity with modern technologies. "This is still a pretty big imposition, though."

At that, Master Kamiya laughed. "Maybe! But Chief Tsuragamae said I'll be getting a stipend to cover the expenses and such, and I've done this kind of thing before. Besides," she said, sobering slightly, "even if it was only informally, I did take mister Olberic in as my student. I'm not going to leave him or his friends without a place to stay."

To that, Naomasa had no answer.

Master Kamiya saw that, and smiled triumphantly. "So!" She clapped her hands, bright and cheerful as if she was just starting a beginner's class. "Where are they?"

"I'll take you to the cafeteria—"

The moment they opened the cafeteria's double doors, a wave of raucous laughter washed over them. Mister Greengrass was apparently in the middle of telling some kind of story, complete with crude gestures, and it had several of the surrounding officers in stitches despite the language barrier.

It looked like their laundry had finished drying and been returned to them, finally, because they were all back in the clothes they'd originally been wearing—except for Therion, who was still dressed in his exotic-dancer costume for some reason, and sorting through a stack of small bills on the table in front of him with a bemused expression.

Please tell me none of the officers tried to stuff those in his waistband. Naomasa could feel his headache worsening, and resisted the urge to rub between his brows. He wouldn't put it past Ogushi, whose hair was rippling pink to match her face.

Master Kamiya only paused for a second at the bizarre scene. Then she moved forward at a quick, steady pace, voice rising over the crowd to call out Olberic's name.

He started briefly, and turned to face her with a broad, warm grin that made Naomasa's chest clench a little, simply because it was so genuine.

Naomasa followed, arriving just in time to catch the tail end of Olberic's return greeting, and the beginning of introductions.

"Wow, you're really tiny!" mister Greengrass exclaimed once they'd been introduced, and then ducked his head a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, that was pretty rude, ma'am."

"It's alright," Master Kamiya laughed. "I am tiny. Don't think it means I'm not tough, though!"

"She is formidably skilled," Olberic agreed solemnly, though he was still smiling. "Cyrus—"

The professor was already rising to his feet, and gave Master Kamiya a graceful, sweeping bow and a smile that had probably broken a dozen hearts. "My dear lady, it is the greatest of pleasures to make your acquaintance," he said graciously.

She bowed back, her own bright smile growing wider. "Ohmigosh I love your shoes!" she exclaimed as she stood back up.

"Do you really?" the professor asked, seeming intrigued. "I was under the impression that they were quite unusual for the area."

"Well, yes. Most guys don't wear heels. But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it when one does, and let me tell you, you rock those shoes." A faintly wistful expression. "If I could wear heels without breaking an ankle or falling flat on my face, I bet they'd look pretty good on me, too."

"Perhaps a slightly more graceful style," the professor mused thoughtfully, peering down at Master Kamiya's small frame. "And of course, a much-reduced size… er, my apologies." He seemed mildly abashed at having brought up her stature right after mister Greengrass' faux pas.

"Don't worry about it." Master Kamiya waved that off too. "Even if I wasn't this small, I'd wear smaller shoes than you. Your name is Cyrus?"

"Cyrus Albright, miss." He smiled easily again. "Professor of history at Atlasdam's Royal Academy."

"Okay, Professor Albright it is, then." Master Kamiya turned to the table's last occupant, plopping down on the seat just far enough away from him to not be within arm's reach or intruding on his personal space, propping her elbow on the table and her chin on one hand. "So that must mean you're mister Therion, right? Detective Tsukauchi mentioned you, too."

At his name, Therion's gaze flicked over his shoulder towards Naomasa, who simply met his gaze evenly. Then he gave a quiet snort, and turned back to her. "Yeah, that's me."

"And I'm sure you were listening before, but to formally introduce myself—I'm Kamiya Kaname. It's nice to meet you." Blue eyes danced with humor. "Nice outfit, by the way."

Therion just stared at her blankly, until Professor Albright translated what Master Kamiya had said for him. Then he shrugged. "It has its benefits." He glanced at the pile of small bills, and swept them into a neat stack. "Don't get used to it, though."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she assured him.

"Master Kamiya," Olberic said, as Therion gathered up his tattered old clothes and gear, and moved off towards the door, flicking his eyes at mister Greengrass as he went. "It truly is good to see you again."

Mister Greengrass shoved himself up from his seat and followed Therion at an easy amble, somehow managing to smile congenially at all of the officers he passed and still catch up to the thief before they left the room, Detective Tanuma casually joining them with a shrug and a crooked smile that belied his role as police watchdog.

Naomasa briefly tuned out Olberic and Master Kamiya's conversation, frowning after where the thief and mister Greengrass had gone. If he was going to change now, but hadn't earlier… the other men must have taken turns going to the locker rooms to change, and he'd chosen to go last for some reason. To keep an eye on their belongings? And now that the other three were done, he was ready to go himself, but didn't trust the police enough to go alone.

Naomasa didn't blame him, even if Detective Tanuma wasn't exactly in great shape and was barely taller than the thief. He probably considered the whole department enemy territory, and Naomasa couldn't say he was wrong, even if he'd decided that trying to take Therion in was ill-advised.

"Is something bothering you, Truthseeker?"

Naomasa turned back around, to see that Professor Albright was peering at him with an expression of intense interest. His dark grey eyes were focused directly on Naomasa's face, and there was something more than a little unnerving about the scrutiny. "Not really, Professor," he replied easily enough, making his tone reassuring. "I was just wondering why mister Therion didn't change earlier along with the rest of you."

A guileless blink. "And what are your conclusions, I wonder?"

Naomasa raised a brow at him, but explained his reasoning.

"I see! That is, in fact, correct in almost every particular," the professor said, seeming pleased. "Though I think it likely that Therion also wished for some quiet time away from the crowds, as he is not by nature an overly sociable individual. While he could, in fact, lose most observers set upon his tail if he so wished, to do so would cause more trouble for all of us than he is willing to risk, and so he took Alfyn with him to deflect tension and reduce the awkwardness of being accompanied by one of your men."

"Technically, Detective Tanuma isn't one of my men," Naomasa clarified. "He's my senior, even if we hold equivalent positions and he helps me out a lot." The only reason Tanuma was even here was sheer curiosity, though the fact that he wasn't very impressive to look at was a tool he used to help people relax around him. It was hard to be intimidated or on edge around a scruffy, battered, relatively small and skinny middle-aged man who stank of cigarettes and had all the professional air of crabgrass.

…not that he would ever describe Tanuma like that aloud. There was honest, and then there was rude.

"I see." The professor nodded his understanding, one hand stroking his chin. "How very considerate of him!"

"Detective! Professor!" Master Kamiya waved a hand overhead, calling them both over. "Come sit with us!" She'd scooted down the bench to sit closer to Olberic, and the disparity between their sizes was almost comical. Not as much as with Captain Celebrity and his wife Pamela, or even Fat Gum and Officer Kaniyashiki, but still striking.

Naomasa couldn't help but smile and join them, though he didn't sit down. Partly because it would require stealing Therion's seat—ironically—and partly because… well, it felt like maybe being a bit too friendly with people who really, truly should not be here. No matter how likeable they were.

Olberic nodded a greeting when Naomasa moved to stand by the table's end next to him, rather than sitting. "Truthseeker," he said warmly. "Master Kamiya has said that your commander called her here to assist in finding us a place to stay until Cyrus can discover how to return us home."

"That's right," Naomasa agreed. "She's closely associated enough with the police force that Chief Tsuragamae can justify remanding you into her custody, instead of mine. Provided, of course, that she agrees to it after being fully informed of the situation."

"Already done," Master Kamiya grinned cheekily at him, standing on the bench to peer over Olberic's head at him. "Chief Tsuragamae had lots to say over the phone, and mister Olberic's good at keeping explanations short and sweet."

That earned a low chuckle from the warrior. "I am only relieved that I no longer need dissemble."

"Yeah, you were pretty bad at it," Master Kamiya agreed, amused. "Like, wow bad."

"I have many strengths," Olberic said wryly. "Acting is not one of them."

Naomasa's eyebrows rose, and he tried to keep his tone light. "He told you everything already?" he asked Master Kamiya. "Including about mister Therion?" He hadn't yet broached the topic of the thief's occupation himself, feeling that it wasn't his place to do so unless the rest of them refrained.

Olberic frowned at Naomasa, but it wasn't a censuring frown, or a disapproving one, exactly. Confused, maybe?

"Of course he did," Master Kamiya said, turning her own scowl on Naomasa. "What part of 'not good at dissembling' did you miss?"

Naomasa opened his mouth to protest that that wasn't what he'd meant, and then closed it again. Master Kamiya's expression wasn't puzzled at all, and in fact bordered on challenging.

"Detective," she said very sweetly, "I think that you should consider who you are talking to, and about, very carefully. Don't you?"

Naomasa sighed, but looked away, scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. After a long, tense, moment, however, his conscience and sense of duty compelled him to speak anyway. "Mister Therion is a thief," he said simply, meeting and holding Master Kamiya's eyes. "I don't think he's a terrible person, but he is what he is. Considering your background, I thought you of all people would be wary of having him in your house."

"Considering my background, Detective, I'd think you'd know better than to worry about who I do or do not choose to allow under my roof," she replied tartly. "Or have you forgotten mister Haido?" Then her tone softened, just a little, though she still seemed annoyed. "If it makes you feel better, though…" She looked down at Olberic, whose shoulder she'd been leaning on this whole time. "May I borrow your phone, please?"

"Of course." Olberic seemed to have gotten used to sharing the phone with other people, because he removed the earbuds and handed her the whole ensemble easily, despite his troubled frown.

"Thank you." Master Kamiya took the phone, and took a step back along the bench before turning and hopping down from it. Then she took two steps forward and held the phone out to—

Naomasa started, abruptly realizing that Therion was standing not two paces away from him, wearing his beat-up old cloak and scarf combination again. When had he returned, and where were Alfyn and Detective Tanuma?

A slight chuckle from Professor Albright said that he'd been aware of the thief's presence, and was taking perhaps undue glee in Naomasa's surprise. From the fact that Olberic hadn't jumped either, despite the fact that his back was turned to Therion, unlike the professor… he'd apparently known he was there too, somehow.

"Mister Therion?" Master Kamiya said brightly, handing the phone to him as he stared at it blankly. "I'd like to make a request of you."

He transferred his blank stare to her, but warily took the phone and slipped one of the earbuds in.

"Thank you," Master Kamiya said cheerfully. "Detective Tsukauchi brought up that you're a thief by trade, and while I don't have a problem with that personally, I think it's best to address the issue now, if only to make him feel better."

"Hey, now," Naomasa started to protest, only to be cut off when she made a face at him.

She then turned back to Therion, holding her right hand out, pinky extended. "So if you would, I'd like a promise that as long as you're living under my roof, you won't steal anything. Is that alright?"

Oh my god, she's making him pinky-swear on it. From the look on his face—still completely blank—Naomasa would guess that Therion had no idea what he was supposed to do with her finger. From the look on Master Kamiya's face, she was absolutely aware of how childish she was being, and enjoying every second of it.

"It's called a pinky promise," she said, wide-eyed and earnest, wiggling the finger in question. "Pinky promises are unbreakable, so the detective can't possibly be worried anymore if you agree to this."

"I believe you are supposed to hook your finger around hers," the professor called out lightly. "By all appearances, it appears to be the equivalent of shaking hands on a bargain."

Therion shot him a quelling look, but reluctantly lifted his right hand to hook his pinky around Master Kamiya's. "…fine," he got out shortly. "I won't steal anything while you're putting us up."

"Thank you!" Master Kamiya smiled brightly, bouncing their joined hands up once, twice, three times. "Pinky promise, punches, liars swallow needles!" she chirped, and then let go.

Oh my god. Naomasa put his head in his hands as all three of the men gave her disturbed looks. She actually got him to do it.

"There you are, buddy!"

Naomasa looked up again to see Alfyn jogging towards them from the cafeteria's doors, Detective Tanuma ambling idly in his wake.

"Why'd you hafta go and disappear on us like that?" he asked, slinging a playful arm around Therion's shoulders. "Gave the old guy a fright!"

"Shut up." Therion's hands had vanished back under his cloak, a faint hint of pink touching his cheeks, as if only just realizing how ridiculous the pinky-promise pose was.

"Rude," Alfyn chuckled, and looked over at Naomasa. "Are you alright, mister Truthseeker, sir? Looks like you've got an awful headache."

"I'm fine," Naomasa replied reflexively, and then grimaced. "Actually, I've got a headache the size of Tokyo Tower and I could sleep for a week." He straightened. "But that's neither here nor there; Master Kamiya's agreed to let you four stay with her until Professor Albright can discover a way for you to return home safely. I can sleep once everything's taken care of for the evening."

The apothecary frowned at him worriedly, expression making it clear that he couldn't understand the words. Thankfully, Professor Albright helpfully translated what Naomasa had said, including Master Kamiya's offer of a place to stay. "In that case, why don't we get outta your hair?" he said to Naomasa, before smiling over at Master Kamiya as Therion ducked out from under his arm. "Thanks a lot, ma'am; I don't know about you, but I'm beat!"

"I'd think so!" she giggled. "From what I've heard, it's been a long week for everyone." She clasped her hands in front of her. "If all of you have all of your things, we can leave right away. I parked my car out in the public lot, so I can show you where it is."

Alfyn gave her another puzzled look, though he was still smiling. "I'm ready when you are, ma'am," he said, shrugging the shoulder that held his satchel, obviously guessing at what she'd said.

"I believe miss Kamiya is offering us a ride to her residence in one of those ubiquitous and seemingly autonomous carriages seen so often hereabouts," the professor put in, flicking one finger over his phone's screen as though he'd just performed the world's fastest Google search.

Alfyn's puzzled look cleared, to a broad, amused grin. "You mean one of those farting, growling things?"

Master Kamiya burst into giggles. "They're not farting!" she said. "Well… I guess, in a purely mechanical sense, they might be…?" She tilted her head thoughtfully, and then dismissed the idea with a smile. "But yeah, I've got a car. A minivan, technically, so it'll fit all of you—"

"No."

A pause in the conversation, as everyone turned to look at Therion. The thief still had Olberic's phone, so he'd been able to understand the whole conversation, and he'd spoken up with a quiet sharpness utterly unlike his usual sarcasm.

"Therion?" Alfyn frowned at him, concerned. "Something wrong, buddy?"

"I'm not getting in one of those." His expression might be blank, but every line of his body had tensed with rejection, arms folded up under his cloak and shoulders hunched defensively.

"Is there a reason for that?" Naomasa asked as politely as possible. As far as he was aware, none of the incidents Therion had witnessed or been involved in had had vehicles involved, other than police cars or ambulances. Maybe the sirens were too much?

Therion didn't answer, just curled in on himself even more tightly, if possible, making a scoffing noise that didn't do anything to hide his discomfort.

"Well, I thought they looked pretty neat," Alfyn said easily, though he still gave Therion a worried frown. "And it'd save us a walk. But, y'know, I don't mind walking to miss Kaname's house, if we gotta. What about you, Professor?"

Professor Albright shrugged elegantly. "So long as it is not a train, I've no protests," he said easily, though he did seem a bit troubled by Therion's objection. "New experiences are always a welcome chance to learn. Olberic? You had said you've ridden within such a carriage before."

"I have. And I could endure, if need be," the warrior said slowly. "But… such vehicles do not agree with me. I, too, would prefer to walk, despite my fatigue."

Therion's expression didn't change, but a shocking amount of tension went out of his shoulders. As if having someone agree with him, even for completely different reasons, had validated his protests.

Naomasa was frowning, wanting to point out that Master Kamiya's house was much too far away for walking to be an option—they obviously didn't grasp the difference in speed fully yet—when the woman herself spoke up instead.

"I don't mind a walk," she said lightly. "It's a beautiful evening, after all. But I do live more than two hours away on foot, so are you sure you'll be okay to walk that far?"

Naomasa felt his brows pinch inwards, worsening his headache. Master Kamiya's stamina was incredibly high due to her profession, but that was still a ridiculous amount of walking this late in the evening. She wouldn't get home until at least ten, long after her nieces and uncle were asleep. Why would she agree to it so easily, without even a token attempt at convincing them to take her car?

As all of the men agreed that they could handle the walk—even Cyrus, who was the least physically adept and was wearing heels—Naomasa continued to frown worriedly. It had to be because of Therion; despite his attempts to hide it, he'd obviously been terrified of the prospect of riding in a car, regardless of whether or not the police were involved. Master Kamiya's career revolved around accommodating frightened, nervous people—she likely didn't even think twice about it before offering.

"That's settled, then!" Master Kamiya clapped her hands once, in finality, and turned to Naomasa. "If you wouldn't mind, Detective, I can give you my keys so an officer can bring my car around to the house and explain things to Uncle and the girls while we walk."

"Of course," he agreed reflexively. "I can ask Biwa; he's about to go off-duty anyway…" He took the keys she handed to him, and turned to toss them in Biwa's direction, trusting the officer's spatial-awareness Quirk to warn him in time to catch them.

He did, without looking, and then glanced down at the keys in surprise before looking up at Naomasa. "Sir?" he called, from where he'd been talking with Ogushi.

"Master Kamiya has asked that you take her car home for her," Naomasa said. "Have Ogushi follow in an official vehicle so you'll have a ride home, alright? And thanks for all of your hard work today."

"Yes, sir!" Biwa nodded sharply, and disappeared out the doors with Ogushi moments later, still talking animatedly.

In the time since Naomasa had entered the cafeteria, it had been slowly emptying of officers and office personnel, as all of them finished up the remaining pizza and got back to work, or went off-duty and left for the evening. Detective Tanuma had wandered off as soon as he saw Therion was back with the group and Naomasa was present, and by now only a few others lingered in the linoleum halls.

A clap from Master Kamiya got Naomasa's attention again, and he winced as he realized he'd been kind of staring into space. Definitely need sleep. He'd have to take a cab home; he probably wasn't fit to drive.

"Alright!" the tiny kendo instructor chirped brightly. "With all of that settled, Detective, why don't you escort us out of the building?"

"I… yes, right." Naomasa rubbed his forehead, refusing to close his eyes on the chance that he wouldn't be able to force them open again. "Right. Let's go." The trip outside was uneventful, and Naomasa spoke a little bit with Sir Olberic on the way, assuring him that he'd collect the clothes and things he'd left at Naomasa's apartment and have them delivered to Master Kamiya's house in the morning. The Chief had ordered him to take Monday off as well, other than writing up and formalizing his reports for the day, so he'd have time to recover properly.

Once they were all outside on the sidewalk, though, Naomasa caught Master Kamiya's attention quietly. "May I speak with you privately for a moment?" he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck in an effort to ease the tension there.

"Sure!" she chirped, and let him pull her a little bit away from the other four.

"Are you sure about this?" Naomasa stressed, brows drawn together. "It's getting dark, and that's a long walk for a woman at night. I can still get one of the department vehicles."

Master Kamiya looked at him. Looked down at the bokken at her left hip. Over at Olberic's sheer bulk and the conspicuously real sword sheathed at his side. At Alfyn's tall frame and easy smile, Therion's slim, compact build and worldly eyes, Professor Albright's dazzling confidence. "Oh, I think I'm safe enough, Detective," she said very blandly, a small smile quirking her mouth upwards as she looked back at him again. "Don't you?"

Naomasa couldn't help but smile wryly back, conceding the point. "Just… try not to get into trouble on the way, would you?" he asked.

Her smile this time was a bright, mischievous thing. "Detective, if trouble finds us, I think it will be very, very sorry."

A/N: The pinky promise used in Japan most literally translates to 'cut off your finger, ten thousand punches, whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles', which is, yeah, pretty gruesome for something kids say to each other.