Luke took a hesitant step towards him. This was so surreal, like a film. Even the snow added to the effect, like static in the image so it wasn't quite clear.
"Professor?" His voice came out as a quiet squeak. There was no reply. Heart pounding, Luke slowly moved forward. He stepped out of the pool of light in the alley, and next to Layton.
The boy had no idea what to do now. He was usually good at this sort of thing, but this…he could never have prepared to this. Without his hat, the professor didn't seem to be his mentor anymore, the prestigious Professor Hershel Layton, puzzle master and mystery solver. He was just a man, and a broken one, nonetheless. It shook Luke to his core. He tried to blink the tears from his eyes, but they only welled more.
"P-Professor," he said again, but this time his voice was distorted by his closing throat. Layton, clearly hearing the distress in Luke's voice, looked down.
His expression was forlorn at first, how could he make his apprentice cry at his expense like that, but it softened to a somber smile. He released a sigh, and it left his mouth in a cloud of steam that faded into the snow and darkness. One hand released his hat and rested on Luke's head, moving back and forth to shift his blue cap. Layton slowly placed his own hat back on his head. Out of shame, but still smiling, he glanced away, lifting his hand to wipe away the stray tears that still lingered on his cheeks.
"I-I'm sorry you had to witness that, my boy," he said in a hushed tone, his voice cracking. He felt Luke's fingers latch onto his sleeve, and he didn't want them to let go.