Professor Layton and the Book of Memory

by End of The Present World

A blank piece of paper in a strangely addressed envelope. Harmless, until it forces the Professor to recall a portion (& a person) of his past that he tried incessantly to forget. Tea time is forced to wait as Layton & crew investigate a suspicious tycoon with a shadowed agenda. Part I of a trilogy. Canon, apart from a few original characters. R&R intelligently. NOW COMPLETE!

14. CHAPTER 14: SUBLIMATION

I realized….that my chronology and time line were severely messed up, as I got my information jumbled while playing the Last Specter game. I thought that the Professor became Gressenheller's youngest professor at the age of 34, but it was actually 27. His age in the Last Specter is 34. Originally, I wanted him to be 34 in this story, thus having a roughly 16 year age gap between Layton and his freshman class students, but…it's gotta be around 10 instead, to stay canon.

Unless….is it important to stick to the canon storyline? Is it? I don't know. I'd prefer the bigger age gap, but then future parts in the story will have to neglect the official Layton timeline, and I may have to throw Claire out of the picture (NOT THAT I CARE...No, I really don't. o_o ). I dunno, you guys tell me. I made the Professor 27 years old in this flashback to stick with the official ages/time line. If it's not important, lemme know. TAKING VOTES. :]

Regardless, this chapter is long and if it's confusing, it's supposed to be. When the characters are confused, I want the readers to be just as confused. It might help you get into the story more. When you're just as screwed as the characters, you feel their pain! So be confused!

Also, the chapter title is a science term. All my chapter titles have subtle connections to the chapter content. See if you can get them!

From here on out, I plan on putting a puzzle in each chapter, so look out for that. Maybe not my own, but I'll find my favorites to give you guys.

I actually don't like this chapter at ALL. It was annoying to write, but...here it is.

AMEN.

Byebye,

Kelsey/Ken

---

CHAPTER 14: SUBLIMATION

Not able to take the harassment any longer, Laura gave in to her parents' demands and agreed to make a trek to Professor Layton's house after they had inquired numerous times about her archaeology grade, determined to hear that it had risen to the only acceptable one (A or higher). With the holiday break underway, Laura had no means to know the outcome other than to contact her professor directly. Which, he had mentioned the last time she'd spoken with him, but she didn't let the fact on to her parents.

"What do you mean you don't know his phone number?" her father had bellowed, irate that she hadn't added such a bit of information to the all-important 'List of Contacts'. "He knew my number well enough when he called around 11 PM during that conference, saying you'd fallen asleep! Which I find to be rubbish, as I told you specifically to call before you went to the Land of Nod!"

"I'm telling you, I had it, but I must have written it on something that I had to turn in, and never got it back." She knew this was a falsehood, but talking on the phone scared her half to death. She'd rather walk through the below-freezing temperature and snow to find out her grade than to make a phone call. Although the option of avoiding the Professor was tempting…

"Well, how do you know the bloke's home address, but fail to recall the phone number? Do you really know where it is?" he tested her.

"I know it's four blocks from here, and is the only house on the block. Grissom's owns it. That's the only reason I know. I see it down the street when I walk to school," she responded quickly and without breaks, hoping it would make sense enough. "It's school property, every student knows about it. He's staying there as a visiting professor, makes it easier to not have to go back and forth every day."

Her father grumbled, looking through the front door window. "Well, I would drive you, but your mother took the car to pick up your Aunt Krista from the airport. If you're sure you can make the walk… It's bloody cold outside!"

"It's a mere ten below. It's hardly cold. And if it makes you happy…"

"That's a good girl."

But now, as she walked on the plowed sidewalk, snowy embankments piled on either side, she wondered if it wouldn't have been better to just call. She hadn't quite cleared her head of what she'd admitted to herself days ago, and was now going to be seeing the very person who drove her to mental duress.

'Perhaps I should have at least phoned in secret to make sure he was home…?'

Turning onto the Professor's street, it was obvious what house he was staying in, as it was the only one on its side of the street. It took up the entire length of the road for an entire block, surrounded by wrought-iron and stone fencing. Tall, slender evergreens, now covered in heavy snowy folds, took up the entire left side of the house, mimicking a tiny forest. On the right was a lonely willow, loose and withered branches hanging towards a hidden mirror of frozen pond, blanketed almost entirely by the most recent snowfall. The brick pathway to the front porch was poorly shoveled, but let the visitor know there was indeed a path to the large home.

Amazed that the place was much more impressive and ornate up close, Laura slowly walked down the path, avoiding the small drifts that had blown about the sides. The porch was massive, spanning the entire front and right side, a quaint swing moving ever so slightly in the chilly breeze. Its chains groaned.

Checking that she still had the small package she brought, she finally came to the dark wooden door and knocked three times. No sound but the crackle of leafless hedge branches and soft wind.

"Blast if he's not home, I walked all this way—"

An older woman's face appeared faintly behind the curtain on the door's window, then the sound of the deadbolt sliding back.

"Oh my, it's dreadfully cold, how may I help you, dearie?" The lady's face creased in several soft folds as she put on a cheery smile. "Are you here for the Professor?"

"Um, yes, I am. Is he present this afternoon?" Laura was certain she'd seen the woman somewhere, but couldn't recall the time or place.

"That he is," she sighed, "and not all that helpful either. But please, come inside. We'll get you settled and I'll call him over." She allowed Laura passage and shut the door, a flurry of snowflakes blowing in and dying in the heat before they had a chance to descend. She motioned to a stiff armchair that sat behind a coffee table, tea tray and snacks set out as if someone were already planning to have their afternoon tea. "Please, enjoy a cup yourself! The Professor won't mind. Are you a student?"

"Yes," Laura mumbled softly, looking about the bright room.

The little lady walked to the entrance of the dining room and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Professor, you have a visitor!"

Laura heard him shout from a distance, voice slightly muffled. The lady returned, grabbing a duster from the fireplace's mantle. "He'll be here presently, dearie. I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name."

"My name is Laura. Pleased to meet you. Although, I believe I've seen you somewhere…"

The woman jumped and laughed. "Oh my, I do believe you're right! You came by the Professor's office once, in quite a stir, poor thing. I never did know what was wrong, but I hope it's all cleared up now. Oh, the Professor's a good man, even if he isn't the cleanest of people, strangest thing really…"

"I can hear you, Rosa," the Professor said from a nearby room. Laura turned her head to see if he was visible. "A tidy room does not a gentleman make."

"I love how your definition of 'gentleman' changes every time a weakness of yours is discussed!" she chortled, waving the duster towards the direction of his voice. "I'd give my prized tea set to see you keep a room clean for more than two days!"

"I just might take you up on that, Rosa. You'd better be careful!" He finally entered the room, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. He was wearing his regular wool cap, but had on more casual clothing, khakis and a heavy ribbed sweater. He was also wearing his regular smile. "Ah, Laura! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you might be off enjoying your vacation too much to carry on with review," he laughed. "Rosa, if you will, I made a little mess in the study dusting those artifacts… The vacuum seems to only listen to you."

"It'd listen better if you'd actually turn it on!" She huffed out of the room, shaking a gnarled finger in his direction. He chuckled as he took a seat in the chair next to Laura's.

"And what brings you all the way here? Miss archaeology already?"

"Hardly. But my parents do. They'd like to know what grade I received for this semester." The more dry, the better. She hardly wanted to start in on a conversation. Just sitting next to him made her nervous. She was thankful for the single occupant chairs.

"I see. That hardly deserved a visit, surely. Did you walk?"

"I did. I enjoy the winter," she stated bluntly, diverting the subject of why she'd possibly want to walk in weather fit for snowy owls and polar bears.

He rose from his seat and walked over to a bookshelf, which Laura only now noticed wrapped around most of the room. Hundreds of books filled the shelves from ceiling to floor, some only accessible by ladder. He was currently rummaging through a folder. "Ah, yes, here we are. A B+ on the exam, an A- in the course. Well done!"

She exhaled with force, clearly irritated and not bothering to hide it. "Unless your parents are perfectionists. It's half a grade lower than their standard." Running her fingers through her hair in disgust, she stood. "Well, I suppose that's all I really came for. Oh, and this." She handed him a small white paper bag. "My parents insisted I bring you a few from Christmas. We had too many cookies. I meant to bring them on Christmas, but it got too hectic with my family coming in from elsewhere, and now my other relatives are in to celebrate the New Year... I've been busy."

The Professor peered into the bag. "Looks delicious. Thank you. If you'd like, you may stay a while. Seems Rosa's made my afternoon tea. Would you like a cup?"

"Smells like the kind I gave you."

"Good nose! It is. Please, take a seat. Tell me about your Christmas holiday. I haven't talked to anyone, save Rosa, since school ended."

She pulled her coat closer around her. "I hate to be rude, but I really must be going," she said tersely. "Thank you for telling me my grade." She made towards the door, ignoring the Professor's somewhat surprised expression.

"Hmm, will you be alright walking back? It's a bit windier since you've come."

"No pain, no gain. I'll be just fine."

He opened the door. "If you insist."

She stepped onto the porch, pulling her gloves on hastily. "Thanks again. Oh, and Happy New Year."

Layton sported a worried expression along with his signature smile. "Is something bothering you, Laura?"

Pulling on her hat, she chanced a glare. "No. Nothing. I'll be off then…"

"You told me before when something was the matter. I expect that if you need something else, you'd do the same. Is that correct?"

"Absolutely," she lied, turning to descend the porch steps. "Clear as crystal, Professor."

Within 30 seconds, she went out of view, quickly clearing the last visible area through the fence. Professor Layton closed the door silently, holding his hand to his chin as he walked back to his chair.

"Curious… She wasn't in the mood for any sort of talk, apparently. But I suppose she's a bit like that—"

Rosa came back into the room, sweat at her brow. "You broke the bloomin' vacuum! I can't believe it, it's useless!"

The Professor frowned, saddened. "I'm terribly sorry, Rosa. Can you forgive me? I seem to have found a replacement however in the closet…"

The now angry Rosa opened a thin door at the corner of the room and gasped as a brand new vacuum stood proudly in the closet. "My! God bless your soul! A brand new model! Professor, what is the meaning of this?"

"I wasn't trying to break the other one on purpose, but it seemed to work in my favor, as I've had this all along," he chuckled, forgiving Rosa's glare of knives. "Payment for going through such hard work, especially over Christmas."

"If you mean your house cleaning, it's only such a small job, really," she gleefully sputtered, changing her opinion of his messes as she looked over the new contraption.

"No, the tickets. I really appreciate it. I'm glad to know that you had connections." He sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Such a small thing, really, oh my, I can't wait to test this out!" She talked up the machine merrily as she wheeled it into the study, lost in her own world.

The Professor smiled while sipping his tea, happy about some things, and concerned about others.

Especially when one of them seemed so upset at him and was walking home in a snow squall.

With only a couple of weeks' worth of vacation, it seemed that classes hadn't really taken a break after all. Laura felt no different packing her bag now on a Tuesday morning, the first day back to classes, than before the holidays, as if the break never really occurred. In her circumstances, it basically never had, as the time was anything but joyful.

She dressed warmly, putting on an extra thick pair of gloves, even though the temperature had risen slightly. The wind chill, she was certain, would freeze her hands. While walking she spotted Millie and Clara walking ahead. Upon hearing her crunching footsteps in the light snowfall, they turned around.

"Laura, back to the old grind, eh? Not that you ever left it."

"I'm sure you studied every day of break, rather than socialized for the holidays!" They giggled.

"Oh yes, I already completed the archaeology course work. That's me all over," she scoffed, irritated already. Not to mention she wasn't in the mood to see their professor. He'd sent a 'thank you' card in the post, and addressed it to her entire family, although the gift was only from her. It was a pre-printed thank you card, but he handwrote her name and his signature on the inside. He didn't mention anything except for a tiny blurb: Thank you for your amazing gift! Enjoy the holidays!

'Is he just trying to not treat me any differently because he can't? Does he have to refrain from singling me out under any circumstances, even in a thank you card?'

"Hello, earth to Laura!"

A powdery handful of snow hit her squarely in the face, the sharp and cold chunks melting but not before cutting against her cheeks. She was initially shocked, then livid that Millie had actually picked up a loose clump of snow and whipped it in her direction. "You actually just did that? Really?"

"Well, I was trying to talk to you and you just stood there!" She snorted, spinning around and heading off towards Grissom's. "See you in class, weirdo!"

The back of Millie's blonde, curly head pretty much had made a target of itself in the few moments Laura had to debate whether or not to pack a snowball and drive it at her. Smashing her hands together furiously, she packed together the wettest bit of snow she could find. Millie and Clara were waiting at the intersection, about to cross the road to get to the college courtyard.

"I'll show you, you spoiled little—"

Frozen in place, throwing arm still extended, Laura's mouth dropped in horror as a brown coated, top hatted person had walked into view around the corner, their back taking the full force of the multilayered ice ball. The man grunted and uttered an interjection of some sort.

"I say, what is the meaning of… Miss Haris!"

She stared, stupefied as her archaeology professor had turned and faced her, as well as the original target and her witness. The loose pieces of snowball had crumbled off his back and fell to the ground but the stunned expression remained. So did the stabbing feeling that Laura had when he called her 'Miss Haris' instead of by her first name. He hadn't called her that in a while. She felt like a scolded child, admonished harshly for doing some naughty deed even when her conscience had told her not to.

"I…I didn't mean…"

"You really musn't throw snowballs. It's certainly not safe, and certainly not befitting of a lady, especially one attending Grissom's." His brow was furrowed as he turned to face Millie. "Are you alright?"

Millie instantly put on a play of disgust, an air of injustice in her voice. "Oh my, I very well could be saying how hurt I was from being hit by that snowball! What would I have done, should my skull have been hit? Or my face? Who knows what could have happened, even while crossing the street! I could have been distracted, and hit by a vehicle!"

Laura immediately looked at her shoes, unable to move or face any of them. She felt awful, wanting to just fade to snowflakes and blend in with the banks of it along the roads. In no way did she actually intend to hurt Millie, but it was in the heat of the moment that she wanted her to feel the stabbing pain of cold snow. And by no means did she ever intend to hit the Professor, no matter how frustrated she was with him. Now, she was in a weird way, unsure of how to address the matter.

She followed them all across the intersection, barely listening to Millie continue her tirade. Glancing at the back of the Professor, she was sure as sin that any further bond with him was just uprooted and tossed aside to rot. What a breach in conduct. What a flaw in character. Throwing snow, how old was she, really? She broke away from them when they entered the building, retreating to the bathroom until class started. It was worse enough without the tears that had started in the corners of her eyes.

She sat in the very back row of desks once the class begun, resolving to not ever look into the Professor's face, to never answer another question in class again. Completely humiliated, she didn't even bother taking any notes, wondering how she could possibly apologize and at least show somewhat that she was remorseful. She wondered if this is what charged criminals thought like when they were honestly willing to turn over a new leaf, yet felt the need to prove they were different from before.

Archaeology took eons to finish, the Professor taking his own sweet time analyzing the Roman Coliseum and the road system during ancient times. Laura merely drove her pencil point into her notebook, spinning it around aimlessly, watching a pit form in the paper. She expected the clock to read five minutes ahead each time she looked back up at it but…only seconds seemed to make progress in that classroom, as girls giggled at the Professor's jokes. Everything seemed to be going swell in the lives of everyone else but herself. She continuously thought about the events that morning, and pools formed in her eyes each time it crossed her mind.

As Professor Layton addressed the class near the end about new material and a field trip during the new semester, Laura decided to apologize directly once everyone had left the room.

Three…

Two..

One.

"You are dismissed. See you tomorrow!"

Laura grudgingly moved herself to the front of the classroom, somewhat against her better judgment. "Um, Professor, may I have a word with you?"

His face appeared from behind his briefcase after he closed the lid. "You may. What is—?"

Against her will, the waterworks. Laura felt tears form in her eyes again, the situation at the intersection replaying in her mind as she prepared her defense. She looked at the floor quickly, hoping he hadn't seen.

Another student had entered the room and walked near the desk hesitantly. "Oh, sorry, were you talking?"

"It's quite alright, Miss Havisham. Laura, would you like to meet me in my office? I'll be there in a minute."

'This is exactly where I didn't want to end up!'

Fanning her face, Laura sat miserably in the stuffy office, hoping her face looked redder from the heat of the room than from forcing tears back into their ducts. She hated waiting for things like this. Any moment she knew that door would open, but when? The wretched time between sitting down and door knob turning was unbearable.

A light knock, and the waiting ended.

"Ah, there you are, Laura. Hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long." She shook her head silently as the Professor made his way to the desk, setting his briefcase on the ground against it. "What seems to be irking you? You looked…subpar in class today, to put it kindly."

She would have been fine had it not been for the sympathetic look on his face and his cursed smile. It was filled with understanding, but Laura only felt disappointment. She opened her mouth to speak but choked on her on voice.

"I…I just wanted to…well… I'm so sorry." Leaning forward on her knees, she hid her face behind her hands. It took a good 10 seconds to stifle a sob, and a few seconds more of sharp breathing to stave it off. "I'm really sorry…"

"Sorry for what?"

Her head shot up. "What do you mean, 'sorry for what'? For this morning! I just…I just chucked a snowball without any second thought and… I didn't mean to hit you, honestly, I didn't. I didn't even intend to hurt Millie, well, at least not badly. No no, that sounds terrible, it's just that she—"

Taken aback, she broke off as he laughed. "I daresay she may have very well deserved it, and it was very surprising to take a snowball to the back, but I think I'm glad to have stepped in just at that moment. It saved the both of you a good deal of bitter consequences." He lifted his top hat to scratch his forehead. It was only then that Laura realized the change in accessory.

"That's…that's your new hat!"

"Why yes, it is, isn't it? I must say, it's a look I never thought I'd take to, but it's very dashing, if I do say so myself. You have very good taste in many things. Speaking of which…" He pulled his briefcase back up to the desk top.

Laura blushed, former anxiety melting away. She watched patiently as he fished around the container.

"Oh yes, here we are. This Friday, would you like to attend a concert with me? I have an extra ticket and I do believe it's something you may enjoy…" He slid the paper ticket across the surface of the desk. Laura picked it up.

"Tribute to Erik Satie, Waldo Hauptwurk? The famous pianist? In London? He's coming to London?" Her eyes widened. "It's limited seating, only those with tickets may enter. Professor, £60 for one ticket?"

"Oh, don't worry yourself over that. It's short notice, but it's this Friday evening at 6:30. I'd be happy to drive you there and return you home within a reasonable hour. For the sake of your father," he added, chuckling brightly.

Disbelieving everything she was hearing, she sat in silence, randomly admiring the wood grain in the desk.

'No, back to the present time. Waldo Hauptwurk! It's near impossible to get tickets to his performances, they are sold out months in advance! And I thought he was staying in Germany for a while… Shows how much I know. And a tribute to Satie, one of my favorite composers. Surely it's all a coincidence, but…it's so perfect! It really is perfect.'

"…Laura?"

"I'm…completely speechless. I don't know what to say…"

"A yes or a no will work just fine," he said, smiling.

"Well, I'd be an absolute fool to decline!" she spluttered loudly. "Anyone with half a brain knows that this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Hauptwurk… Wow. I really don't know how you managed such a thing, but this is amazing. I… I've totally lost the sadness I came in here with!"

Layton couldn't help but laugh at her reaction, not expecting the enthusiasm. "It's definitely apparent where your interests are, there's no doubt about that. And…" He handed her final back from last semester. "…where they aren't. You left this on your desk."

"Oops…"

"Well, now that I have your acceptance, I'll plan on being at your house at 5:30. I want to allot enough time to get there in the snow and to be seated. Is that fine? Good. Look forward to Friday!"

She grabbed her messenger bag, beaming. "Thank you so much, Professor. I really can not wait. Oh and, about this morning…"

"Your apology is more than enough. Though," he rubbed his left shoulder blade, "Miss Miller's massage pad for my car may prove its worth on the way home. You have quite the throw…"

She apologized once again and left the room. The door slammed shut.

"A quick reminder…" He jotted down hurriedly on a notepad. "…thank Rosa yet again for those tickets."

Racing from the room, Laura's spirits couldn't have been higher. All that had been hardened and frozen inside now floated her down the hallway, out the door, and back into the snow for the walk home.

'Friday evening in London, at one of the greatest shows of all time, with…'

She halted, waiting for the traffic to pass at the same intersection that she'd ruined her morning just hours before. Staring into the dissipating gasoline emissions from the passing cars, she put two and two together.

'I'll be with him for the entire evening. I'll be with him for the en-ti-re evening. No conferences, no workshops. Just him, walking in the snow, and music. I feel like a child at Christmas.

What an ironic day…'

The next few days were excruciatingly painful to wait through, although at the same time, Laura didn't want to rush to Friday. She knew it'd be over before she knew it, so she didn't want to be too impatient, but…

Sitting through archaeology wasn't getting any easier to tolerate. Nor was the Professor's nonchalance, every time she made eye contact. It was as if he was playing a joke on her, and wouldn't really be showing up on Friday. He didn't so much as smile anymore. Plain faced, he'd just continue through class, or walk down the hall as if he hadn't actually seen her walk by.

'Maybe he's just being cautious…can't play favorites, I suppose…I'm probably just being a child about it anyway…'

Friday after class, she ambled through the halls on Cloud 9, hoping the next few hours would pass without incident. A hurried set of footsteps came up from behind her. An expensive hurried set of footsteps.

"So, Laura, going to spend your birthday with a good read?"

"I'm surprised you remembered my birthday, Millie. I'm touched," Laura said, rolling her eyes. "In fact, I'm going to London this evening."

Millie's eyes widened, interested. "Oh, to do what?"

"Oh you know, the usual: a show, a stop at a café, bit of light shopping… That's my typical Friday night."

Squinting, Millie frowned. "You're a liar. You're never in downtown London because that's where I spend my Friday nights, and you've never been there. Ever."

"Well, maybe you just weren't in the right place at the right time," Laura said, a bit worried. Was Millie really a frequenter of the downtown area? If Laura was seen with their professor, however innocent the occasion was, Millie would definitely let rumors fly. There'd already been unkind things said against her, what with the conference and all; she was only thankful no one knew about her drink being drugged. She quickly decided to make sure Millie wouldn't notice her presence, if indeed she was around. "Where will you be this evening?"

"Only the newest, most raved about restaurant in the city! If you don't have table reservations by now, you won't be getting any! You need to make them weeks in advance." She smirked. "So, I'll just wish you 'Happy Birthday' now, since I know I won't be seeing you later. Hee hee. Have fun in London, birthday girl!"

Blonde curls bobbing about, Millie made her way through a group of girls just getting out of a science lab. Laura groaned.

"Great, why does she have to always ruin everything…"

"Something got you down, Laura?" Professor Layton walked past on her left, holding a wrapped sandwich. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, I haven't. I was just about to head home to grab something to eat." She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and sighed.

He lowered his voice, whether it was subconsciously or purposefully, Laura didn't know. "I'll be at your house around half after 5, as I said before. Is that okay?"

She'd almost forgotten about her own plans, Millie messing up her train of thought. "Oh yes, that's fine. I told my parents I'd be expecting a ride to go out this evening."

"Are you sure that you didn't have any prior engagements that this would interfere with?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Why would I have?"

"Well, it is your—nevermind. I suppose I already knew that." He gave her a weak wave and quickened his pace. "See you this evening!"

"Yeah…"

Leaving her in his wake, the Professor made his way to his office, carefully unfolding the wrapper to his sandwich once he finally sat down. He chewed on a bite thoughtfully, wondering if it was too audacious singling out one student for her birthday. It wasn't odd that he knew the date; a date of birth was listed on every student's file. What might have been seen as odd was that he wasn't celebrating all of his students' special days, only one of them.

'It's coincidence, yes, that's it, coincidence. Is it not fate that this particular concert just so happens to occur on her birthday? It's not my doing. It's just happenstance, a bit of luck. Yes, that's really all it is…

Yes, what a lie, you create for yourself, Hershel. Such a nice man, a lovely gentleman, aren't you? Who are you playing for a fool? If that was all it was, why was it that you pressured Rosa into getting those tickets, even over Christmas? Like some sort of lunatic? Maybe you should wake up and smell the Earl Gray. Your student might thank you.'

Jolting out of a reverie, the Professor gasped. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten lost in interior monologues, but they were getting to be particularly personal, so much so that it ended up being himself unknowingly chiding and pestering himself. He tried pushing the thoughts aside, attributing them to lack of sleep, but the more he slept, the more he dreamt, and that was almost as worse as being admonished by oneself in the waking hours.

He finished his sandwich and made himself some tea, the only thing that seemed to calm him anymore.

Feeling a bit guilty, Laura shut the front door to her house. Hours prior, she had told her parents that 'Harriet Lehman' was going to take her to the movies with a few other girls. The business side of her persuaded them to buy it, but the marketing wasn't all truthful, as a 'Hershel Layton' was the real driver, and the only 'girls' going were herself and any voices in her head telling her that something wrong was bound and determined to ruin the evening.

She opened the car door and slipped inside. It was warm and arid, hot air from the vents already choking her of breath.

"Good evening," the Professor greeted her, tipping his hat slightly. "All set?"

"As much as I'll ever be. Mind if I crack a window?"

The ride was much shorter than the last time she'd been in his car, and they'd barely discussed the local goings-on before they found themselves in a traffic jam. Cars in all lanes honked angrily as their drivers rolled down windows, even in the sub-zero temperature, shouting out mild profanities at cars in front of them.

"Ah, what rubbish. I for certain thought that this route would be the quickest… Turns out our pianist celebrity is more popular than we bargained for." As the cars in front pulled away forward, traffic making only slight progress, Layton made the decision to leave the lane and make a turn down a narrow side road. Laura sat quietly, looking about at the quaint buildings that lined the street. The car stopped in front of a cramped but charming set of apartments, covered in iced-over ivy.

"Is it far to the theatre?" Laura inquired as she opened her door, eyes down the lane.

"Not too far to walk. Mind your step, Laura, that curb looks slippery." He made his way around the car and helped her out, taking her hand in his.

"Honestly, treating me like a child…" she muttered quietly. He looked at her as if to ask what she'd said, but thought better of it. She grabbed her bag and shut the door. "Will we be late, walking?"

"We've made good time. We should be fine." He held out his arm towards her. "Hold on, this sidewalk is quite icy."

She jumped back slightly, her natural reaction to having her bubble of space invaded. "Do I look like I am from the tropics and have never walked in snow and ice before?" she sarcastically blurted out. "Honestly, honestly…" Reexamining the situation in an instant, she felt bad for reacting so instinctively without thinking.

"Well, if you're certain you'll be alright," Layton said softly, somewhat defensively. "But I really think—"

"On second thought, you're right so…" She linked her arm with his, all feeling leaving her left side.

'This. Is. Awkward.'

The Professor studied her quietly as he started them on their journey . "You really don't like being in close proximity with people, do you?"

"It's…a quirk of mine, I suppose…"

"It's not the first time I've noticed," he laughed casually. "I wonder why that is."

"Well, as I've analyzed it, I wasn't really hugged or touched as a child. No head pats, no forms of caressing. I wasn't even punished physically. Perhaps that's why. It's just really…foreign to me. Plus, I don't like germs."

His eyes widened. "Ah, a germophobe."

"I suppose that's the word."

"Well, this feels rather natural on my end. If it's really uncomfortable for you, you can keep to your side of the sidewalk," he chortled.

"Hmm." As the time she borrowed his sweater, and when she gave in to dancing, it quickly became natural, as if she'd been doing it all her life. Perhaps it was just her infatuation with him, but whatever it was, it was making her enjoy being linked at his side. "I'll survive."

After five minutes, the theatre came into view. The sign outside the building was on fire, it was so brightly lit, branding the night's showings into whomever's retinas glanced at it. Several people were getting dropped off by limousine right under the overhanging sign, fancy ladies stepping onto the salted curb, heels grinding into the ground, rich older men taking a last puff of their cigars, casually grinding them into the ash bins just outside the entrance doors.

"Too bad we couldn't have been dropped off like that," Laura laughed as they came closer to the entrance.

The Professor pulled their tickets out of his coat pocket with his free hand. "Well, then we couldn't have walked together, could we?" He smiled as he made a quick glance at their connecting arms, just as quickly looking forward again, a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

'She'll think it's the cold, for sure…'

Laura went to make a comment but it was lost as they entered the lobby, maroon plush carpet underneath their feet. The walls were covered in browns and golds, ushers scurrying about the room in matching brown vests with gilded buttons. Professor Layton entered one of the many lines.

"Guess it's still a rush, even at quarter after."

She nodded, heart racing. The anticipation before listening to powerful music made her antsy. Within a few minutes their tickets had been scanned over by a portly usher by the name of 'Marly' and they were being guided to their seats.

"All the way to the right, sir. All the way over."

Layton tipped his hat in thanks and moved carefully down the row. He plopped heavily into a folded cushion, removing his top hat. "I suppose it's only polite to allow those behind me to see." Laura giggled.

"How kind of you. You know, I once saw a concert and a woman in front of me had a huge plume of feathers on her hat. She never took it off, and I never could see the orchestra either."

"Dreadful! It's only appropriate to take one's hat off during such performances."

Nodding, she removed her coat and breathed heavily into her cupped hands.

"Do you suffer from cold hands during the winter, Laura?"

"Any time I'm in a cold environment, even during summer, in the air conditioning, my hands and feet feel like they are freezing. It's a bother, trying to play piano with stiff, cold hands."

She sat back and stuffed her hands into her lap, trying to take the warmth from in between her legs. The lights dimmed and an older man walked to the middle of the stage to announce the pianist's performance details, followed by a little of his history. In minutes, the famous Waldo Hauptwurk strutted across the stage dramatically, naturally cueing the applause. He bowed for a total of 10 times before sitting on the bench behind the keys.

Laura's eyes brightened, as Professor Layton could tell even by sitting back in his seat. He glanced over a couple of times, thoroughly relieved that she seemed to be having a good time. He really knew nothing about the music of the evening, or much about the composer, but he'd heard her play a song of Satie's once at Millie's tea party (/brunch) with the most delicate touch, pulling back and rushing forward again as dictated by tempo markings. It was obvious she was in love with the piece. It was only a guess that the composer was one of her favorites.

Starting out at the edge of her seat, Laura gradually rested back into the chair and put her arms on the armrests. She let herself drift away, carried away by careening melodies that wove together, charismatic chords that sewed themselves into the fabric of the music, covering the entire hall in its grandeur. Hauptwurk was almost an actor, the amount of emotion he put into his playing a show in itself. He mourned with the sad notes, pounded joyfully away with the proud ones as they carved out a careful tune. As part of the audience, Laura was in awe, happy for the time she wasn't the one doing the performing.

Professor Layton listened physically, but was mulling over the sequence of the evening. As much as he'd have liked to push it aside, the incessant desire to make the night flow perfectly was eating away at all preparation he'd done the week prior. He worried that something would go awry and make the night memorable, but in a way that wasn't pleasing. Shaking his head, he returned back to the concert, typical logic running through his head once again.

'Events like this are a normal occurrence. No one bothers whether it goes according to plan. It's common, there's nothing special, nothing special.'

He leaned back and placed his arms on the rests. Shocked, he retreated, feeling another hand underneath his. Laura did the same, eyeing him suspiciously. "Sorry, Laura. Didn't know your hand was there…you can have the rest," he whispered. She shook her head.

"It's fine, go ahead."

'What was that? Was he trying to hold my hand or was that just an innocent mistake?' She smirked, glaring at him through the corner of her eye. 'What a cheap move… But I only backed away because he did, it startled me. Otherwise…it was a bit nice… BLOODY HELL, WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT?'

The Professor's face turned brick red although he didn't mean for it. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, but he somehow felt as if he'd broken some unwritten rule, feeding into a cliché, without intending to.

'Oh yes, the typical nonchalant I'm-going-to-secretly-lay-my-hand-on-yours trick. What a bother… She's going to think I was trying to do something, as if I am so low to put on such a stunt. This is what happens when I think too much!'

He noticed that she kept her hands in her lap from that point on, face a bit hardened, but figured that she'd lighten up once intermission came around.

After a lengthy applause, the pianist bowing enthusiastically, the house was lit again, allowing safe passage to the lobby and bathrooms for a brief interlude. Laura stood, stretching. The seat swung up behind her, holding her coat in place against the back.

"I need to use the restroom. Will you be staying here?"

"Well, I was thinking of getting myself a cup of tea…"

Laura snorted. "At a theatre?"

"Surely they have something at the concession booth."

"In that case…" Gathering her messenger bag and coat, she made her way down the crowded row of those seated, the Professor following behind. They appeared in the lobby, cutting through a crowd of people vying to get a bite to eat.

The Professor found the end of a line and smiled. "Would you like me to take your coat?" She handed it to him without a word and walked away. After a few minutes of waiting in line, the folks gathering around started getting a little more comfortable with each other, making jibs at the amount of time it was taking, talking about the daily news, and other happenings about London. A cheery elderly man quipped loudly about coming to see a comedy, and found the concert to be fitting enough, what with the amount of drama that the evening's pianist was playing with.

"Quite the actor, that one! Talented, quite, but an actor all the same!"

Layton turned and nodded. "Yes, it seems he uses the swaying to carry a tempo of sorts, I've noticed."

"Very good, very good! Analytical, this one!" he hooted to the rest of his group. "Say there, a lovely hat you have, old chap! Was that your daughter, just gone to the restroom?"

The Professor about choked on his own breath. "E-Excuse me? No, good heavens, I don't have any children."

"Why, she looks about 12, 13 years old! Maybe I put too high of an age on you…35?"

"Um, no…27."

"Oh my, so sorry! Perhaps it's the hat? Some clothing just ages you! Well then, hmm, perhaps she's a niece?"

Layton shook his head, hoping to not show his embarrassment. He laughed weakly. "No, no, she's just—"

"I'm going out on a limb here, must be your girlfriend then. I tell you, these girls, all looking younger and younger, some of them, while others just look old as my wife 'ere!" The elderly woman at his side slapped him on the arm, grunting in disgust. "Darling…"

"No, she's not…well, she's a girl and a friend, but…no, not my girlfriend either. Just a friend, yes," said the Professor, tripping over his thoughts and words, wishing the conversation would end. The man had had something to drink, and whatever it was, it was strong.

"Aw, come now, young lad, she's pretty enough, you've brought her to this fine establishment. Surely if you're willing to spend the pounds to get to this shoddy show, she's got to be much more than just a 'friend who's a girl'!" Another slap.

"Gordon, really now, you're making the boy nervous, look at 'im, all red in the face and flustered!" The man's wife smiled sincerely at the Professor, waving her husband away with her hand. "Never you mind him, he's just an old coot who puts his nose into everyone else's business. You enjoy your evening now with that pretty girl, young sir. Don't end up like this crusty old bucket here!"

"Yes, words to live by!" the man shouted, attracting laughs and looks from lookers-on before receiving another final, heavy beating from his spouse. Layton chuckled as he faced forward again in the line, thankful for the change of conversation. The lady was now heckling her husband for drinking too much before the show and threatened to have the ushers escort him to the exit.

Laura finally returned, successfully finding the Professor amidst the crowd. "I see you got your tea."

"Barely," he mumbled to himself as they walked back to the concert hall. He wasn't expecting the exchange with the older gentleman, and indeed he was flustered. Daughter, niece? Girlfriend even? It got him to thinking, what exactly should he call Laura? Student seemed the most obvious, friend the next obvious title, but…it somehow didn't fit. On the 'to-think' list.

The next 45 minutes passed without any other hand intrusions or awkward moments, and the concert finally ended. Laura clapped zealously, perhaps the loudest of those around the two of them. They collected their belongings and filed out slowly with the rest of the attendees.

"Wow, wasn't that wonderful! Absolutely brilliant. I've never heard such wonderful renditions." She clapped her hands together, rubbing them almost hungrily. "If only I could play that well…"

"I heard you play one of those at the Miller residence; it sounded just as good, if not better, in my humble opinion. But yes, it was a beautiful show. He's quite the entertainer, Mr. Hauptwurk."

"Crazy German guy, and I can say so: I'm half-German," she giggled, Layton doing the same.

"Ho ho, well now, as for the next event on the agenda, let's head this way." He directed her towards the intersection, heading near the more vibrant and busy part of the area. Laura hesitated.

"Wait, 'next event'? What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't send you home hungry. Indeed, it's almost 8:00. I've been meaning to try this particular restaurant myself. Perhaps you'd like to join me?" He placed a hand on her back, gently guiding her forward across the crosswalk. "Let's see if it measures up."

Laura bit her lip. "This is quite embarrassing, but I didn't bring a lot of money with me. Perhaps I should sit this one out…"

"Nonsense! I already made the reservations for two, I can't very well show up by myself. Besides, a true gentleman always treats a lady out, no exceptions."

Disarming wink, disarming smile. And 're-arming' on her left, as he linked his arm once again with hers. "Well, if you insist, but where are we…blimey…"

They stopped in front of a tall building. As if the 4-stort front windows weren't dazzling enough, the entrance way was practically swimming in polished alabaster pillars and tiling, perhaps literally drowning with the addition of a monstrous fountain that almost hid the entire façade. The oaken doors glistened from the outdoor lights, a stiff looking man already opening the door for them as they approached. Laura stood speechless as she stared at the sign.

"Regia… Even the sign screams expensive," she groaned incredulously. "Professor, is this really the right place? It's probably £100 for one person, and that's a low estimate."

"It's been the talk of the town, I'm not backing out now," he laughed. "Come now, before our reservations are worthless."

After treading across stone tiles that probably were worth more than a small developing nation, the Professor walked to a rounded podium with a heavily masked young woman. Her make-up was almost eerie, the way her naturally dark eyes were seemingly lost in her mascara.

"Welcome to Regia, sir. May I have your last name, please?"

"Layton, for two."

As they followed the woman into the dining room, Laura couldn't help but feel a bit special when he stated 'for two' as if it was their norm. The place was lively as expected, each table filled to capacity. They were seated at a window overlooking a thoroughfare, the lights of downtown London like the stars of the night sky, brought to earth.

"Such a nice view, we're very lucky!" Laura exclaimed, allowing one of the hosts to pull out her chair and take her coat away. She sat down and brushed her hand over the front of the menu. "Even the menu is elaborate!"

"It's one of the best in London, I've heard. Many of my Gressenheller students have been raving about it, telling me I should go. Of course, they pestered me to take someone along but…"

"Oh, you mean they wanted to go with you?"

His cheeks flushed pink as he took a sip of water to divert her attention elsewhere. "No, no, not that, I think they meant—"

'Saved by the waiter…'

A well-dressed, dark skinned man with slick hair presented a bread basket, a plate of antipasto, and a small bottle of sampler wine to the table. He had the class of a baron with the swank of a game show host. He flashed a bleach-white grin. "Good evening, sir, young miss, and welcome to Regia, your ticket to royal dining right here in the heart of downtown London. My name is Vinny and I will be your gracious host this fine evening." He sat the food and drink on the table, arranging them in a fashion he probably had to practice 100 times to get correct as he placed each object at a certain angle and distance. "May I interest you in our signature bread, homemade cheeses and cured meats, and a bit of the owner's family stock, a 1950 vintage made right here in England?"

Although she was used to taking in a plethora of information at one time, Laura could only blink in reply, the Professor jovially accepting.

"Thank you, Vinny," he said with a broad grin. "It looks wonderful."

"My pleasure. I'll give you a few moments to read over our menu, but first I'll let you know about this evening's specials." He continued with detailed descriptions of many of the signature dishes, how the meal would be cooked, what ingredients would be used and where they were all obtained, even a brief history of how the chef came to create such dishes. It was all very thorough, and time consuming.

Laura laughed as the waiter shifted to another table, repeating his prepared speech. "All that and we still don't know what to order!"

"This is more puzzling than, well, puzzles." They both laughed.

"Speaking of which, I think the puzzles you offer in class are too easy," Laura pointed out, a note of disdain in her voice.

The Professor set his menu down, letting out a sad sigh. "Alas, I'm not sure the rest of the class cares as much for a good mental workout. I haven't been giving the best out."

"Do you ever come across any that take you days to figure out?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Why of course. I'm not God. Depending on the circumstances, there have been ones I put away for months at a time, and come back to them later, with an instant answer upon first glance. It's a curious thing, the brain…"

Laura sat quietly for a moment, smiling to herself. "Say, how about this for a New Year's resolution? I'll find a puzzle for you every day, and you can find one for me, and whoever solves the most by the end of the semester wins."

Chuckling, Layton nodded, receptive to the offer. "That's a very clever idea. Disappointing I didn't think of it earlier myself."

"But they have to be difficult. No baby stuff," she warned with a wag of her finger. "And don't go easy on me, because I won't be doing that for you."

He laughed loudly. "Ho ho, I wouldn't dream of it. I'll find you something for Monday."

"Very good." She looked back at the menu. "I can't pronounce half of this. My word, I thought I was clever knowing what the name of the place means!"

"You mean Regia?"

"Yes, it's Latin for 'palace' or 'court.' Someone did their homework; it fits the bill quite nicely, if I may say so." She gazed around the room, still astonished. "I would have never known about this place, had you not brought me."

The Professor looked at her warmly. "Well, I figured you probably don't get out often, so it wouldn't hurt to let you have a bit of fun, would it?"

She laughed lightly, a bit concerned. "Still, is this really necessary?"

"Necessary? Well, I suppose none of this evening was really necessary by definition." Laura folded her hands in her lap, feeling more like a burden after his comment.

"I suppose not," she whispered, hurt.

"But, that's really not the question. It's more a question of whether you are enjoying yourself. Can you answer that?"

Taken aback, she thought briefly. "I…well, yes, but, how is that important?"

He broke a piece of bread, applying a thin layer of butter across the soft surface. "It's important because I think you need to start thinking about enjoying yourself once in a while, instead of perfecting. You are allowed to enjoy yourself, my dear. I'm just as logical as you are, if not less, but even the wisest person will tell you that no matter how hard you try, you'll just disappoint yourself if you think you can be perfect all around."

"Again with your perfectionist lecture." She narrowed her eyes, tearing gingerly at a piece of prosciutto. "About as tiresome as archaeology…"

"It's not so much a lecture as it is a bit of advice from a caring friend. As I said before, don't waste your energy on those who won't pay attention. Let me amend that by adding on 'don't waste your energy on those who already think you are perfect as you are'." He finally stuffed the bread into his mouth, smiling. "Delicious."

Laura scowled. "Advice indeed! Caring friend indeed! Haven't you noticed? I have to be perfect, lest I lose everything. Paid education, scholarships, job openings… You do realize that imperfection has taken what's most important to me? It's imperfection that's turned my parents into impractical misers. It was imperfection that killed my brother. I want no part in it. And I personally don't care what others think. I haven't met a person yet who thinks I'm already at a suitable level of anything, grades, talent, personality. Anything." She poured quickly over the menu, tapping the plastic covering over the name of a foreign sounding dish. "That's the one. I'm getting this."

Shaking his head, the Professor sighed. "I thought you'd be more clever. I must say, I'm disappointed." She looked up from her menu, subconsciously unhappy to displease.

"What…what do you mean?"

"I keep leaving you puzzles, but you don't catch on to them. Maybe you're right; maybe you have a bit of imperfection to work on still. Perhaps I'll go easy on your puzzle for Monday." He smiled, knowing it'd goad her enough to either admit she was catching on to his hints, or at least deliver a frustrated snarl. Admittedly, he found her harsh glares and occasional angry pouts a bit endearing, if not attractive in some subliminal way. "You win this one."

The waiter approached the table once again. "Ready to order?"

Laura shut her menu, glaring viciously under heavy eyelids, never looking at the Professor's face.

"I'm ready."

'Ready alright…'

They ordered and specified their tastes to the waiter who took the request to the kitchen. Layton seemed congenial enough, but Laura was flooded with contrasting emotions.

'How dare he! Admonish me for a second time about how I handle myself, then admit I'm right? What's he playing at? And he's so fluid about it, so hidden too, I never know what he's thinking. This puzzle business, he's really taking it too far. He's just playing with my mind, just like…just like…

Oh God. Yes, I hate admitting things to myself. As if I didn't know and catch on. Who am I trying to fool? I know what he's playing at but…I can't let it happen. It's not supposed to happen. I'm not allowed to like my professor, I'm not allowed to be caught dead with him, especially in a place like this, hopping about London, hanging on his arm. I certainly can't let him flirt with me. He's not just being nice anymore, it's…it's a bit deeper than this gentleman stuff. It's that on the surface but…it's just a façade. It's a lot deeper than that…I'm not stupid. I can tell, but…how long can I hide understanding? Maybe the better question is, should I be hiding my understanding?

This is all terribly frustrating. I need to be on my guard…but…I wish I didn't have to think so hard about everything I ever do!'

"Professor, don't be disappointed in me," she blurted out. "I know I'm a bit, well, socially awkward, but I really do understand what you're saying."

He looked at her curiously. "Oh?"

"It's just…I'm not quite sure how to say this, but it's a bit worrisome, having someone who understands and accepts me, as you do. I'm not really used to it." She poked at a piece of cheese, a sad frown playing at her lips. "I hope you understand that."

He smiled, to her relief. "Don't worry, Laura. I see you have caught on. You don't have to try and impress anyone, especially—"

"Take your hat off."

"I…sorry?"

"Just take your hat off," Laura spat abruptly, gripping the edges of the table. "Do it now."

The Professor wondered at her troubled expression, quickly removing his hat. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Bloody, she's already done a double-take," she hissed, shielding her eyes. "Good thing there's a lot of hustle and bustle in this place… I need to use the restroom. I trust you'll use your wits." She slipped from her chair and flung her bag over her shoulder, making her way towards the restrooms on the opposite side of the room.

"What? Wait, see here! Laur—"

"Oh my goodness! Professor Layton! I would have never thought I'd see you here, tonight, in the same restaurant as me!" Millie Miller raced to the side of the Professor's table, giggling incessantly. "I can't believe it!"

'Oh…that's what she was stirred up about…this is quite the predicament, indeed…'

"Miss Miller! Fancy seeing you as well. Who are you here with?"

She bobbed her golden curls in the palm of her hand, eye lashes batting. "Just a few of my friends from school, a couple of Gressenheller students. Maybe you know of them?" She pointed to a square table a few spots over, five people seating around it.

"Hmm, I may recognize the blonde-haired boy. He was in a class one of my colleagues taught. Pleasant young fellow, I think William was his name, if I'm not mistaken."

"Another example of how smart you are! William Dolan, right you are!" She glanced at the empty chair across from him. "Are you dining with someone?"

He gulped, thinking quickly. "Yes, a good friend of mine from college. She's gone to the bathroom, a bit under the weather…"

'Not quite a lie….It's completely true, after all!'

Millie leered. "Ooooh, my, Professor! A lady? At this fancy place on a Friday night? Only a good friend?"

Layton laughed heartily. "Your audacity is quite amusing, Millie, and it seems you've caught on. Perhaps a bit more than 'good,' since you've offered the question. It's a bit complicated, nonetheless."

"Well, if you ever need dating tips, I'd be more than happy to offer my services!" She winked and twirled herself around. "Good evening, Professor!"

"And to you, Millie…" His voice trailed off, wondering how he and Laura would get out of being noticed by Millie. There was really no inconspicuous way of going about it, and he knew his other student would be scouting his table out for whenever his more-than-a-good-friend showed herself.

'I wish I knew what to do…I actually have no plan.'

Moments into thought, a woman of medium height in a bright green dress, matching beret, and high heels sat down at the table, startling him back to earth. "Oh, um, madam, I don't mean to be rude but…wait, Laura?"

"Laura? I sink you mean Greta, don't you, Hershel?" Laura said in a flawless German accent, eyeing him carefully. "I sink you need to vatch the drink a bit, don't you?"

He blinked several times, trying to comprehend who was sitting in front of him. "You…but the outfit, your face, and—how did you account for all this possibly happening?"

"Long story, I'll tell you later. For now, I'm Greta Wienhoft, I'm your friend from college, and needless to say, I'm German. Like my transformation? Pretty convincing, isn't it? I practiced all afternoon. Not the accent, the makeup application. I'm half German, I don't need help with the accent." She said it all so matter-of-factly, as if scripted, that the Professor couldn't help but laugh out loud, unbelieving of the entire thing although he knew it all to be true.

"I…well, it's convincing, among other things…" He wasn't sure whether to admire her keen attention to detail in preparing for such a situation, or just her charming accent. The heavy makeup was a bit much for his own tastes, but the outfit and voice wasn't out of line… Guilt flooding his system, he smiled appreciatively, hiding his thoughts. "Nice work."

"Danke. Now, let's see if I can address the problem of the waiter wondering where his previous customer went…"

The Professor stood. "Laura, let's just leave for tonight. I'll bring you back another time."

She stared at him, frozen. "What? But, the reservations, the time you put into all this. You're just going to throw it away? Millie told me she was going to a popular restaurant this evening, I knew my luck wouldn't hold out so I planned for this. It'll be fine now!"

He shook his head, flagging down the waiter. "Although I am thoroughly impressed by your hidden skills as an actress, I don't really care to dine with Miss Wienhoft this evening. I'd much rather settle for, no, enjoy a more quaint place if it would mean staying with my original guest. Oh, here you are. I'm terribly sorry, Vinny, but my friend here is not feeling well and we need to make an early exit. Here's a tip for your assistance this evening." He handed a few paper bills to the waiter, who stared at it in happy surprise.

"Oh, my, well, this isn't necessary! Well, I… Please do feel better, miss! I…"

Before the waiter could inquire, the Professor placed his arm around Laura, leading her to the exit quickly, not allowing the waiter to ask questions, and forbidding a situation with Millie to arise. They were back on the cold sidewalk, groups of people walking and talking about, just as they were before they had entered the restaurant. They looked at each other, quiet, then burst out laughing.

"I can't believe, what has just happened in the past half hour," Laura giggled, going into hysterics. "It's absolutely unheard of, completely hilarious! It's almost as if it was all planned, scripted!"

Professor Layton wiped a small tear from his eye. "I'm completely floored, I must say. I've never had anything quite like this happen. Not even close, not even similar! Well, I suppose we can continue with Plan B. My personal favorite café, just a couple of blocks down. Would you like to walk, or take the car?"

She held out her hand, theatrics taking over. "Hershel, you know I despise such busy contraptions. Valking is better. Guide me to my destination. That's vat a gentleman does, ja?"

Chuckling, he obliged. "Who am I to deny the request of a beautiful lady?"

Her laughter trailed off, allowing him to take her hand. He may have been playing into her acting when he had just mentioned her request as a 'beautiful lady,' but it made her embarrassed all the same. She expected him to let go of her hand, but he didn't, and made no move to stop holding it. She cleared her throat.

"I should really go change. These shoes are killing my feet."

"A good idea."

After a few minutes in a convenience store bathroom, Laura was back to her former self: a good five inches shorter, minus the heels; flat hair, minus the hat; and plain faced, minus the make-up mask. Looking about the bathroom, she remembered why she hated big city life.

"I've never seen so many numbers for prostitutes as I just did in one bathroom stall. I really could have made a directory," she noted wryly after exiting the bathroom, walking up to Layton's side. "There. I'm back to my old boring self."

"I wouldn't say boring," he said with a smile, tearing himself away from an architectural magazine. "This has been quite an adventure, wouldn't you agree? Now then, to our destination."

The café of Professor Layton's choice was small and subdued, but very cozy. Local artists' works were proudly displayed on the walls, most of them portraying landscapes and scenery from around London. Little lamps sat on top of each metal-framed table, giving off a calm yellow light. It made one want to start a habit of drinking tea and chewing on freshly baked goods, just to frequent the place.

"Where should we sit?" the Professor asked, following Laura to a hidden table in the back corner.

"Hidden and quiet. Two things Millie won't ever relate with," she said with a grin. "Can't risk that happening again. Charming place. Do you come here often?"

"About four times a week. I know the owner well, and I get a discount. Additionally, the fare really is excellent, by café standards." He pointed at a large chalkboard chart that hung above the cashier counter. "There are your options. I recommend the Lackadaisical Lavender. It's very calming, and has subtle sour notes at the end of each swallow."

She laughed. "Listen to you, tea expert. I thought such lingo only existed for wine connoisseurs."

He blushed. "Well, all things have their experts!"

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. I'll have the Lackadaisical whatsit, Lavender, yes. That one. And I think I want one of those paninis…"

After several mouthfuls of food, sips of tea, and talking about how narrowly they escaped uproar at the former restaurant, Laura decided to change the subject. She'd wondered all evening, but had never brought it up before, how everything was seemingly planned with precision. If Millie's comment about Regia filling up weeks in advance was true, this whole evening had been in the cards for quite some time. It made her as curious as ever to know what was really going on in the Professor's head.

She shook off her nervousness and coughed weakly, clearing her throat. "Um, Professor, I have a question."

"And I have an answer," he laughed, setting his cup down. "Continue."

"I want an honest answer, a forthright one. I don't want a puzzle."

"Okay, I won't give a puzzle. What is it?" He didn't know why, but he started to feel rather uneasy about the pressing tone in her voice.

She looked at the table, eyes playing with the tile pattern under the surface glass. "About this evening, it all seems very well coordinated, and, if I may be so bold, quite perfect. I really don't know how you managed it."

He smiled, folding his hands on the table. "Well, I'm quite good at picking up signals that people leave around about themselves. Is it not obvious to you, what really makes those around you tick? I guess the simple way to put it is that I have good intuition."

"Well, yes, that, but…still. In the end, that's all conjecture. Good guesswork. It's not 100% certain, whether you're skilled at it or not."

"I see your point." He sipped his tea fondly, smiling over the rim of the cup. "You still haven't asked your question."

Exhaling audibly, she looked at him, candid. "Did you know that today was my birthday?"

He paused, holding the cup in midair. He stared at the little bubbles in his tea, popping one by one around the edge of the beverage. "No puzzles. Yes, I did know."

"Did you do all this, because it's my birthday?" she asked hesitantly, both excited and scared for the answer.

"I think it's more of a lucky coincidence. I found out about the concert months ago, but only wondered in the past month or so whether I should pursue it. The restaurant was more of my own fancying, and since I knew I'd already be out this evening, I made it overlap."

"All in advance. It just so happened to all fall on today," she said in monotone, as if dictating a particularly boring bit of poetry. "Is that really plausible?"

Finishing his tea, he nodded. "It really is, as strange as it sounds. I suppose it's a bit late to say, but happy birthday. I hope you've enjoyed it."

She hummed in affirmation. "Hmm. Yes. I did. Thank you again."

It was an understatement, feeling crushed. Laura felt numb, both from a mental chastising and the reality of the Professor's statement. What was she really hoping for, a confession? A statement of mutual feelings? Did she think the planets had aligned and the fact she was having the time of her life on her birthday meant anything more than what it appeared as? Perhaps it was because her birthdays typically weren't anything to write home about; her mother would buy a cake, she'd get whatever slice she wanted, and she'd open a card, always filled with cold cash. There was no party, there was no pomp and circumstance. No fanfares.

Today was just a coincidental dream, one from which she didn't want to wake, one she didn't want to have end.

'Just a professor, Laura. He's just your professor. Stop getting all rosy and spellbound just because he's the only person you understand. He has a fleet of colleagues, an enormous pool of intelligent women to choose from. He's not going to have any strong feelings for some neophyte kid who just turned 18. I'm just barely an adult… It'd be weird to have that age gap anyway.'

Professor Layton buttoned his coat and arranged his hat, sensing her regret in asking him such questions. Swallowing his guilt, he chuckled quietly to himself.

'Sorry, Laura. That's all you will be safely getting out of me.'

"Well, sadly, our little London adventure must come to an end."

"Like all good things, eh?" she laughed feebly, following suit.

"Quite. Shall we?"

He held the door for her and waved good bye to the clerk at the counter. Shivering, he glanced at Laura who he could tell was deep in thought. She stared downcast at the ground, avoiding cracks in the sidewalk as they walked past the store fronts.

"Laura, what are you thinking about? You haven't even put your gloves on."

She looked briefly at her hands, letting them fall back loosely at her sides. "My hands are fine. You know, it's amazing how astute you are about some things, but not with others," she dared, clenching her fists.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I mean…" She decided then and there to let her silent feelings die; it wasn't worth the effort. If he never knew, well, then he'd just never know, and in reality it really was for the best.

'It's not appropriate. I'll just do myself the favor, and him as well, in case he was debating all along. I'll just kill it now…make it look like he shouldn't be spending time with only me…'

"Actually, I was just thinking, you might want to indulge in some other students' likes. I mean, you did this for me, really, you should do something with other students. You mentioned students recommending that restaurant, so maybe you should go back with them instead of promising me another time there." She shrugged, a faint smile lingering about her mouth.

He looked at her with dour eyes, stone-faced. "Well, what do you suggest I do with them?"

"Well, I think Millie, Clara, and Amy enjoy shopping. Obviously Millie was at that restaurant as well. I'm sure you have boys at Gressenheller who enjoy rugby, so you can go to more games—"

"And how do you know I don't already do those things?" he said, a tad sharply.

"Millie never mentioned anything like that. She would have, I know she would have. It would turn into a huge brag fest with the girls. They are all…well, you know…"

"And, is it really proper to be that active in the students' lives?" he questioned, as if formerly opening the topic for discussion.

She shook her head, defeated. "I guess not. But you're doing this, the concert, restaurant, all this tonight. How do you find that proper?"

He laughed, expression changing in an instant. "Well, perhaps it's not as obvious to you, but you're not a student."

Laura snorted, sarcasm growing. "Um, well, no offense but that is a rather stupid comment, yes I am—"

"Rather, I should say, you're not only a student." He chuckled as she looked at him with pure confusion

"Really, what are you getting at? You said yourself it was all coincidence."

"I could be frank, but that'd be too easy, and no fun. I have to treat students a certain way, but I behave much differently towards good friends. Didn't I let you know what you were some time before?"

"Well, that was just—"

"You have no argument then." He shrugged coolly, smiling. He could tell that Laura was fuming inside, but for once, he didn't care. He knew she was a smart girl, that she could figure out his words without any assistance. It kept him from being forthright, and from admitting to himself what he already subconsciously knew.

Laura blinked away a nasty bout of anger. "I really don't know what to say to you right now. It's always a puzzle from you. Maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut like I always tell myself to do."

"You enjoy hints too much. You should mull over options, find the answer out on your own. Or, just wait for it to come to you."

They walked past the fancy restaurant again, people now taking pictures of their friends and family underneath the store sign. Laura stared off to the side, watching the cars zoom past, front lights catching mist in their beams. "I'm a very black and white thinker. I want things straight. I don't want any surprises, no cock and bull situations in real life. Puzzles on paper, sure, I can be thrown curveballs, but in the real world? No. I want to know things."

"Very well. I'll oblige this time. Only this time, mind you." He grabbed her hand and pulled it into his coat pocket along with his, ignoring her stunned expression. "I only held Greta's hand this evening. Probably should warm yours up too, to make it even and fair all around. Is that reasonable?"

She tried to speak, but couldn't find her voice. "I—well, I—this isn't—friend or not it's just not—steady on! Really now, Professor! What if someone should see us?"

"A man back at the theatre thought you were my daughter, and only after guessing 'niece' did he finally try with 'girlfriend'."

"Girlfriend?"

"So, I'm not worried about what anyone thinks. Plus, we're just friends, isn't that right? Your hands are cold, correct?" He smiled, as if nothing was different. Laura's face turned red, she could feel it, but she didn't know if it was from embarrassment or anger.

"I really can't let you do this!" she exclaimed, attempting to pull her hand away from his. He held on firmly.

"What? Take you out for your birthday? Attend a huge concert event, make reservations for an exceedingly exorbitant restaurant, weeks in advance?"

"No, you, you…"

"Oh, you mean holding your hand? I'm just keeping you from falling. It's slippery. That's what gentlemen do."

"Is it really gentlemanly conduct, this whole affair?"

He paused, quiet as their shoes crunched salt and ice against the sidewalk. Sighing, he laughed yet again. "Ha ha, if you mean confusing you, it's just a bit of light fun. I'm…a bit lost myself. You like puzzles, I'm stuck in one, so perhaps we'll just find our way out together. Is that explanation enough for you?"

She scowled, eyeing him intently.

'I really, really, really hate mind games and feelings and everything subjective! Despise it!'

"It's going to have to be… I'm afraid to hear any more," she muttered to herself.

They arrived at the car without another word, Professor Layton turning his key in the ignition while Laura warmed her hands at her mouth. After a few moments the little car started off back home. Neither driver nor passenger was in any rush to start another discussion, both enveloped entirely in their own respective thoughts.

Laura gazed out the window, internally bidding farewell to the city zooming past her window, melting into black night. Her mind was awash in conflict, wishing the fun from earlier didn't have to end so quickly, but dissatisfied with the Professor's back and forth explanations and answers.

'One moment, I think I'm being singled out and catered to, maybe even thought of as distinct. The next, I'm being told it's just what gentlemen do. And all this rubbish with puzzles! And hints! Figuring things out myself? How can I when I'm being told conflicting information? And then he holds my hand… I just really don't know what to do. Is he playing cautious? He is a professional; he can't very well be…treating one student differently than the other… Is it so wrong to be his 'good friend' though, as he keeps repeating?'

The car came to a halt. Laura realized she was again outside her house, just as she was mere hours before. The windows sent light from the house lamps cascading across the snow on the lawn.

"Well, I—" she started, barely opening her mouth. Layton opened his door and stepped out. "What—what are you doing?"

He opened the back passenger door and pushed things aside, apparently looking for something. Laura got out of the vehicle and peered into the back window to see what he was up to. "Ah, there it is." Walking around the car, he presented a rectangular object wrapped in brown paper and tied with a brick red ribbon. "Here you are."

She stared at it, accepting it with uncertainty. "And, this is…?"

"Not a fake shark tooth," he said with a knowing grin. "I figured I'd better make up for that. It was mostly a gag gift. Sorry, mostly to downplay the fact I'd been planning for your birthday."

"Oh, the coincidental birthday-concert-and-restaurant-outing-in-London?"

He gave her a somewhat sarcastic grin. "Oh yes, that one. Go ahead, open it."

Laura felt her cheeks warm against the cold winter air. How he knew about the shark tooth and her reaction was beyond her understanding, but she continued unwrapping the gift, senses dulled.

"It's…a piano book." She opened the brittle cover, carefully turning the pages. The thing was actually incredibly old, the binding torn and the pages yellowed by many decades.

"We uncovered it in an underground room of a church in France. The church had been demolished for many years, but no one knew of the hidden storage below ground. Everything inside was in excellent condition."

"This…is excellent?" she asked with a smile, setting a few pages back into their rightful order.

"Well, you know, better than it could have been. Excellent by archaeological standards." His face turned red as he wrung his hands together, anxious. "It was apparently from a composer that played for the choir at that church. All the music is original, and unknown to the world. I thought you'd enjoy having a go at it."

Giving the book another look over, she snorted softly. "A mix of your archaeological pursuits, with my musical ones. Hmm. Interesting. Well, I…I really wasn't expecting this. The evening alone was enough." She looked at her feet, placing the book in the empty box to keep it contained.

The Professor took the loose wrapping paper, tossing it into the back of his car. "Well, it's only appropriate to get a gift on one's—oof!"

Even for one of his quick thinking caliber, it took him a few seconds to figure out what was squeezing the air out of his lungs. Laura hugged him tightly, arms around his torso like a human vise. She naturally rested her head against his chest, taking in his scent before loosening her grip. She stepped back, mentally laughing at his shocked face.

"Thank you," Laura whispered, sniffing sharply. "Thank you so much. I don't know how to express it, so I'm sorry if that was…. Well, it was very out of character, but it just felt natural, for once. I just, I've never had anyone pay attention to detail so…perfectly, and orchestrate an entire evening like that, based around just me. And your present is very personal. I am completely at a loss for words." She held the box against her chest, also holding back an embarrassing set of tears.

"Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction I expected but…" He shook his head, facial expression returning to normal. "You're most certainly welcome, Laura. I'm sure it will serve you well. I'm afraid I must be heading back home now. I trust you thoroughly had a fun birthday." He made to return to the warmth of his car, opening the door.

"Um, Professor?" He looked up. "I forgot to ask. Is it okay if…we continue review sessions?"

He smiled, quiet for a moment. "I can't very well be spending time just talking about things unrelated to school, as you know. But," he added, laughing slightly upon seeing her expression change so quickly, "I suppose if you call them 'review sessions,' it's a brilliant excuse to be able to talk with you alone every day."

Laura didn't even realize that Professor Layton got into his car and was waving before taking his foot off the break. Sure that her face looked more silly than anything, she broke from her daze and waved, smiling awkwardly as the little car pulled away from the curb. She breathed in deeply, stretching toward the vacuum of space, feeling like she could float away if she merely wished for it. She packed a snowball, tossing it as far as she could into the street, smiling as it smashed into a drift. It was a first for twirling from pure happiness; it wasn't odd that she twirled, as she often would when she knew she was alone while walking. But now, it was like being a top, and having it be your purpose to just spin, spin, spin for the joy of it.

She was reluctant to return to the house, but knocked on the door, the only resolution. Quickly, she slipped her gift into her bag.

Her mother squinted through the mini window on the door, quickly unlocking it. "About time you returned! I wondered if I should have been more paranoid and gotten the names of the girls you went with. I would have called their mothers!"

"It's not too late. We saw a movie after all," she lied, smiling lazily. Her mother locked the door again, a suspicious air hanging about the conversation.

"And what movie did you see?"

"Oh, that new one about some guy who meets some girl. They're all the same."

"Oh? And the time it started?" She grabbed a local newspaper, flipping to the movie times.

Laura groaned. "Really, mum, I'm 18. My birthday is today, remember? After all this time, you really think I'm trying to pull the wool over your eyes? 6:30. Then we got something to eat."

Raising her eyebrows, the blonde and svelte Mrs. Haris tossed the paper onto a stand and shook a finger at her daughter. "Clever girl. Too clever. We best keep our eye on you. Your father and I want nothing going wrong with you. Can't be having another loss… It's not that we don't trust you, it's that we don't believe that you may have looked into every possible situation, any occurrence that may happen. We're keeping tabs."

She shuffled to the reading room, mumbling something to herself about changing the drapes. Laura flew up the stairs, glad for checking the newspaper before making her exit with the Professor earlier. The lie was sound and solid.

She shut her bedroom door behind her.

Her face hurt from smiling, she stood with her back against the door for so long. Her mind raced. Whatever it was she was feeling, it was disgustingly wonderful. It was almost like a pleasant nausea, her mind creating feelings that swept too quickly through her system, thus making her dizzy, feeling almost sick and ecstatic at the same time. She was spinning endlessly in her mind, the world a blur. But it didn't matter anymore. None of it. Only top hats and the scents of warm teas.

"I don't know what any of this is. It's almost a disease, and it only goes away when I'm with the Professor."

She pulled the piano book out from her bag, placing it carefully amongst her other piano music. It was too much fuss to bother with pajamas and teeth brushing for the evening. The night drained her mentally. There was nothing so hectic as piano concerts, fancy restaurants, ironic meetings, acting, and puzzle solving all in the matter of a few hours. Falling back onto her bedspread, she closed her eyes.

'He won't be frank with me, and I definitely wouldn't be open with him, but… By his words, it's pretty obvious. For once, I have someone who understands the world. Someone who understands me.'

"I…have a best friend."