Author's note:

Wow, guys. It's been quite a long time..

I'm actually in college now, and it feels almost surreal that I am able to continue this fanfiction. I've always loved this pairing so I couldn't find it within myself to let this story go, so here I am, working away at it again. I am terribly sorry for not keeping it updated as I haven't found the time between work and school... Ah, no excuses now though! Especially with how many alerts this must be sending out ;

Anyways, keep in mind with all of the British accent mumbo-jumbo I mentioned beforehand in the author's notes and this should come off as a better read.

**PS: I know this only continues after curious village has left off, but there are many of you who might be reading this that have played most of the games if not all of them. I am aware of Clive Dove, etc but please don't think of this Luke Triton as a remake of him. To be honest, only a couple of Professor Layton games had been out in the states and unwound future was not one of them so I had no idea he existed anyways.

Thank you for reading!

All I could imagine were Hershel's bare hands having at me and my clothing, that unusual sound of seams ripping so close to my ears. I imagined my own voice speaking to him, prompting him to do things to me that I could never find it in me to allow past my lips. The man's sweaty palm had begun to form around the backside of my neck, the other yanking the clasps of my slacks open and his tongue—

"Layton…"

"Sir? May I help you? "

"Hm? Oh. Uhm," I flushed, realizing that I'd been standing at the counter, gripping the insides of my pockets. I quickly withdrew my wallet and spoke to the banker about my absence, my visa, and reason for returning. He was a benign and man, carefully inspecting my Identification card with his eyes flickering from the photo to my now perspiring visage. It made me uncomfortable how untrusting the man felt with me, and it made me wonder if Hershel took the step to bar me from my own savings. So I piped up in hopes of ensuring my

"P-Professor Hershel Layton of Gressenheller, do you know him?"

"Yessir, I do. He is here often, paying mind to your dwindling inheritance, " the man joked, eying me one last time before he gathered a massive amount of paperwork and heading towards the back; towards the vault, I assumed. So he knew our relationship. With an extra hand, he flapped his white glove in the air and called out to me "If you would stay put sir, I'll bring the notes. "

It was during this time that I turned away from the hustle and bustle behind the counter to face a rather content plethora of others, going about their busy day in London. Mostly men were situated near me, due to the fact that I was at the bank. I began to primp nonchalantly in my new clothes, adjusting the collar of my blouse where I'd begun to perspire, only to notice quite a few sets of eyes making their way to my own curious gaze. Naturally I checked to make sure there were no mishaps occurring with my attire, especially what with me literally wearing a majority of my wardrobe out of Penn and Company, only to find that there couldn't have been anything out of order.

It racked my brain why there were so many men giving me these looks; charming faces that bothered to ogle at what I had to offer, it felt like—and it left me feeling almost completely insecure. It wasn't as if I were some fine dandy, nothing like a man mindlessly expressing his love for another man or acting as if to sell oneself among the streets like I'd seen so many do on Spain's narrow bends; you know, they were the most tempting souls I'd ever come across in my then lackluster life, and I envied the fact that they could become so passionately bound to a stranger while my stubbornness sentenced me to a much more mature and respectable being that would never, ever become entangled in something so difficult as I. But as far as I was concerned, my demeanor was much friendlier and publically appropriate. . Perhaps my attire was too much.

Finally I arrived at the townhouse I'd just left hours ago, and managed to make it up the stairs to knock before I heard a shrill voice call out my name. I turned around, not surprised in the least that it was Flora. She mentioned how dashing I looked and ordered me into the car, where I would wait for both her and the professor to join me once she fetched him. Although that jealousy I once had with the Layton-Flora relationship never truly disappeared, I absolutely did not want to cause trouble. After all, that was what a gentleman did, was it not? I smiled graciously at the bird and crawled into the car, chatting with the chauffeur. Hearing an inhale cut short, I instinctively turned to face the door after staring out of the window for quite some time. The moment that man caught eye of me, he was suddenly unable to breathe. My face grew a tad too warm to my liking and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My black blazer and slacks, silvered necktie and grayed vest seemed to provide enough attention alone was what I thought. He-He was just awestruck at how high the thread count was, a-at how opaque clothing could be. Right?

"You're... looking quite nice. I like that. That looks nice," he breathed, climbing into the back of the car only to be seated next to me.

"Thank...you, Professor."

The car'd begun, and I leaned as far away from him as I could, honestly, but I couldn't help but listen in on his seemingly random mumbling; "Yes... Very age appropriate," I heard at some point. From his tone I could gather that he was trying his best to convince himself that I was not the boy I used to be... or at least that was what it sounded like.

For the rest of the ride, the two of us were quiet. We did not speak directly to the other, but we did respond to the incessant chatter Flora provided to keep us from drowning in silence; for most who haven't seen her as of late, it would be hard to believe she even speaks at all, who began to explain the dinner plans. We were to enter, banter with the other guests and establish relations, acquaintances, etc. Once the butler comes about and relieves us of our small beverages, we are to have dinner. Apparently this was to be a welcoming feast for both sides of the bride and groom's families to familiarize themselves with one-another. My arrival to London seemed in sync with their timing. How precious.

When the car pulled around to the front of what seemed to be a chateau, professor Layton and I were left at the entrance whilst Flora was driven closer to her fiancé's terrace. Good luck to you, Hershel, I thought as he exited the vehicle and made his way towards the entrance . I took a breath myself, and proceeded to enter.

The foyer, the tall sculptures, the lights- everything; everything seemed to emanate grandeur, opulence in all of its discovered glory. The smell of the place was familiar too; as if I were in the Reinhold house once again and yet a ballroom as well. The colours were luscious golds, cream, and burgundy, the textures marble and wood. I'd seen so many places like it, and yet I had not. There were numerous women and men strolling about, mingling, and somehow I didn't feel out of place. The professor hadn't either I suppose, because after glancing at me, he made his way over to a group of men and women I'd never met before in my life and smiled. I grew stiff as I stared, hard with an ugly frown and standing too rigidly for my own good; I could even feel the jealousy welling up in my eyes so much so that they provided a glint to anyone that dared to look my way. Too bad there weren't any photographers around then or I would have probably kept the photo. One very embarrassing moment in my life, indeed.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

I jumped, slowly rotating my upper-half to find a young man pleasantly smiling. His hair was an angelic blonde that flowed in soft waves near to the length of the bottom of his chin, which to me, contrasted nicely with the classic black suit, white vest, and red tie that fit all too-well.

"N-Nice to meet you," I said. Blinking a few times, more surprised, I turned to face him and met him properly. The man switched from grasping the red wine with his right hand to his left before reaching for my outstretched hand, as I did with my cane.

"You must be from Flora's side of the family, or else I would have met you before, I'm sure." He took a swig and grinned.

"Haha, how very observant of you," I laughed, " Yes. I am related to Flora. Not by blood, but her and I've created a sort of adopted family with the professor."

" The professor?" He raised a brow, glancing at professor Layton. Then he smiled, and I couldn't help but stare at his teeth. They seemed to be the most perfect description of this man's personality: sharp, devilish, beautiful - but altogether something I didn't want to become familiar with.

"Uh, yes, Professor Layton sort of took us in when we were younger.."

"Yes, yes, I heard about that," he motioned shooing a fly away then continued, "but I never heard what your name was... Wait, perhaps I'll remember from what Aunt Augusta told me... Triton, was it? Landon, Ladler, Lake..."

"Luke. Luke Triton."

"Ah, yes! How very nice to meet you, Luke. My name is Claude. Bailey to be exact, but I prefer Claude to what my father calls me. The attractive also find it rather...charming," He chuckled. The way he held himself somehow made me wary, and slightly flustered. Although nearly my height, if not more than a few inches, he boasted a serious wealth-induced disorder and reminded me partially of...

"When we dine, will you be sitting beside anyone in particular, Luke?" He asked, interrupting my subconscious scrutiny. The way he'd prepared himself before asking me was as if he were ready to be rejected. Yet, when I admitted that I would in fact not be sitting next to anyone in particular, Claude's eyes lit up instantly. He whispered a little something to himself momentarily, then rested a hand at the small of my back as he searched the room for a pair of eyes. On the outside, I had to admit that I was feeling a bit high and mighty, attaching myself to this man and gracing everyone with my jubilant aura, but in reality, I was feeling terrible. That churning within someone when they felt brimming with guilt was the exact portrayal of me. I would nervously turn both left and right to look for the professor as the man was touching me, but I was unfortunate every time to find no familiar hat, no familiar voice.

Then suddenly a light bell sounded as it was accompanied by a large and daunting man, dressed in butler's attire. He took a breath and cleared his throat with eyes half-lidded, hoping to grasp everyone's attention.

"Dinner is served. If you would please take your seats."

When he spoke, the crowd was momentarily hushed. Then, as if a silent cue had been emitted, they began to speak again, this time all at once. It made me dizzy, when I thought about it. I couldn't hear even the slightest bit of Hershel's voice, and it was driving me mad, and I know I was panicking. But before I could register that there were in fact two hands now escorting me to my seat, I was finally able to detect his voice. But it was too late by then…

"Luke, my boy! I see you've met someone!"

I tried my best, I really did, to look back at the two whom had been trekking past all of the ladies and gentlemen that'd come for Flora's dinner, but in the end I could not; unless I wanted to make a scene. Instead I just carried on as if I were keeping to myself, as if there weren't two men politely grappling behind my back, as if this was the best dinner party I'd ever attended.

"Yes, profeessor. His name is Claude, –"

"You don't say!"

"Sir, My name is Bailey, I've heard so much about you!"

"Pleased to meet you, sir."

They both pulled me in opposite directions. I felt as if I were in one of the silent films that I'd just seen a few days back. The way they simultaneously made to tug at my suit, one left and one right, felt a bit. . Animated and rehearsed; though I could tell by the tone of Hershel's voice that it was in no way a joke. His voice was a tad gruff, more assertive. Like I was his property and he would have me sit in no other spot than right beside him. However, being the yellow-bellied fool that I was, I assisted Claude in his tug of war, and made for the left side of the table.