Chapter Text
The napkin in her suit's pocket feels like coiled ropes after the twentieth time she squeezes them between her fingers. Allura knows better than to let her nerves get the best of her, but it's almost impossible at this point. Years of training couldn't have prepared her for the actual moment she stood in front of her father's--correction, Chief Alfor's--office, and now all she could do was wait and fight the urge to pace a trench (or in this case a moat, judging by how unusually sweaty her palms felt) in front of the metal and double-bullet proof door.
The Police station, unlike many of its counterparts in lower Roppongi, is clean and marginally brighter. Broadleaf plants hug corners to invite sparks of life and clarity for the usually grim shadows police life offered. Despite the bright lights and clean linoleum, the faint stench of grime and filth weep from the walls in steady, if bearable, waves. Shining rewards were only for peaceful living. When you choose a life cleaning up streets, you're bound to get dirty.
Allura tugs her hands from her pockets and glares at the blots of napkin sticking to her skin. A choice glance to the metal-grate-protected police clock over the other side of the hallway tells her a meager three minutes have passed. A watched clock never moves... Exasperation manifests into a grunting sigh that tickles her throat and Allura wipes her palms on her pantsuit and wills herself to calm. I need a coffee.
If wishes were genies... Sure enough, a waft of convenience store coffee strikes past the murky station smells and into her nose. Allura perks up and glances to her right just as a tall and broad man (with the dimensions of a prize brand tortilla chip) strides around the corner. Her eyes sweep over his figure with instinctual awareness for critical details. A long stripe of a scar lays over the bridge of his nose and teased his cheeks. Such a brand would normally be called a deformity, yet on this man's face (whose eyes were cast down in aggressive focus on the screen of a smartphone in his opposite hand) it is a simple added feature that does nothing to mar his proportions.
And what proportions indeed--if one could look past the poorly-tailored suit that is far too big to garner enough attention let alone a traveling eye easy passage.
He must sense her gaze on him because no sooner does he take a few steps he glances up and meets her eyes. Allura's stomach jumps just as he does a quick double-take of surprise.
"Oh," he speaks and it is pleasantly deep. "Good morning."
"Good morning," she parrots back and gives him a courteous nod. That should have put death to further conversation, but he makes no motion to look away and neither does she. The atmosphere spins and almost teeters over the edge of awkwardness. Allura clears her throat and proceeds. "I suppose you are also here for an interview?"
"Uh, yeah," he replies and there is nothing about him that lets off any hint of aggression or alarm. He's easygoing and his smile is sheepish. Allura finds him amicable enough. Cute, even. Alright, he's gorgeous, but he doesn't need to know that. "I'm being transferred in."
"Oh? From where?"
"Northern Tokyo," he replies again and the atmosphere is saved. Allura straightens.
"Tough place," she says.
"It's no different than most places," he says and pockets his smartphone in his suit pants. "You?"
"Not exactly," Allura shifts her weight on her heels, wedge heels squeezing her toes faintly. "I'm being promoted."
Friendly's eyebrows rise and it's when she realizes the way his hair is cropped, shaven from his nape to the edge of his temples, the rest looks like it's fought his comb from being styled backward. The dark hair grazes his forehead and gives him an almost boyish look. Blast it all.
"Congratulations," he says and extends a hand, only to pause and realize it's the same hand holding onto his sub-par cup of coffee. Allura smiles at his flustered retreat and he offers his other hand instead. She takes it and is glad she wiped her palms earlier because his hands are warm and gently calloused. "I'm Shirogane Takashi."
"Juniper Allura," she responds in the order of her last name first, first name last. Shirogane Takashi nods and she can see the cogs spin in his mind as he registers the curious pronunciation of her name.
"Where are you from?"
"Okinawa, if you believe it," Allura says through a breathy laugh. "How well is your English?"
"Phenomenal," and when he does speak in English it's like listening to a new favorite song. Allura fights off the urge to tug a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Only now she wishes she had done the up-do instead of a simple low ponytail. At least her bangs are framing her face how she likes. He has no visible accent aside from an obvious American one and that alone is her only complaint. "How well is yours?"
"As well as it should be," and his eyebrows lift when her tongue fails to resist the similar cadence of a British trill. "I was mostly raised in southern England."
It doesn't occur to them that they are still shaking hands and it hits Allura how this situation is dangerously close to falling into a "meet-cute" category. She retracts her hand just as he does, to her relief.
"America," Shirogane Takashi says and saves the atmosphere once more. "California. Not as fancy but we get more sun."
Allura can't help the burst of a laugh then and it's impossible to continue denying the attraction any further. Still, she finds her feet before they run off into uncharted territories any more than her teenage self could and she assumes a more professional position. Only two minutes into banter and she already has a crush. Her father will be thrilled. Her mind snags a bit of their earlier conversation and brings to light a new question.
"Tokyo, was it?" she sees the hesitant wall of wariness stiffen his shoulders before he nods. "I'm...sorry to hear that."
He blinks, surprised. "What makes you say that?"
"You mention you transferred here," like a trigger being pulled, Allura finds herself falling into the distinct inertia of a mystery being solved. Her mind connects dots at a speed far too fast for anyone else to follow, yet years of training herself to demonstrate its genius kept her from losing track. "Judging by how early you are you requested the transfer. There's only one reason anyone would transfer out of Tokyo...especially now of all times."
The sunny disposition gives to a cloud and she can see it. His eyes darken with an emotion she's all too familiar with. His lips pull into a wry smile, and his eyes look distant, cold.
"I can see why you're getting promoted," he says and takes a sip from his coffee. "Very fast, detective."
It's Allura's turn to be surprised, but she doesn't need to voice it. Her face must've said it all because there's a sharp gleam in his eyes that reveals he isn't all too shabby at uncovering mysteries either, even if they are rather simple. Just like that the energy between them shifts, one that teeters on the side of calculating appraisal. Suddenly, Allura feels like she's being seized up by the weight of his eyes, and just like that, she's paying him the same courtesy.
The door to the Chief's office clicks and swings open with a tight squeak. A familiar tall man, broader than even Shirogane Takashi, appears behind the door, eyes narrowed in a callous expression and when he glances at Allura he only nods.
"Detective," he greets.
"Antok," Allura replies, and it's an impressive switch from an easy-going stance to a stance sharp enough to mimic military stature. Antok gives Allura a single once over before glancing over to the man at her right.
"You must be Detective Shirogane," Antok says, "I spoke with your supervisor from Tokyo. Ulaz was...talkative."
"Sir," Shirogane gives a respectful bow of greeting, one Antok acknowledges with another stiff nod.
"You two are right on time," Antok says and steps to the side. "The Chief is ready for you."
Allura blinks once before exchanging a glance with Shirogane. "Both of us?"
Antok turns and walks inside without another word. Allura hurries after, followed closely by Shirogane as they enter the wide Chief of Police's main office. There is nothing new about the room, as Allura has been within its confines more than she has been in her apartment. The smell inside the office is marginally more pleasant than the rest of the building and yet there is a faint odor that tells her he was running out of sandalwood spray. Antok's broad body almost makes the office small and she steps around him to face the large black desk in its center.
Her father, Chief Alfor, is staring down at a file, lips spread thin as his eyes gather intel from the documents with speed and year-long precision. He closes the file a moment later and straightens in his chair, looking intimidating despite the fact he was still sitting and Antok was still a prominent presence in the room.
"Good morning," he says and meets Allura's gaze with a warm look before he addresses the other two men. "I trust your day has been going well?"
Allura gives a nod and sees Shirogane do the same.
"Good," Alfor places his hands on his desk and focuses his attention on the newer addition. "Detective Shirogane, welcome to Roppongi."
"Thank you, sir," Shirogane responds, tone respectful. "Happy to be here."
"I'm sure you are." Alfor's eyebrows shift, changing his expression into more empathetic. "Northern Tokyo is not an easy place these past few years, what with being so close to the Gate. But you've become fairly familiar with the Gates, according to your file. How long were you in Brazil?"
"Paraguay," Shirogane says and there's a faint tension twitching a muscle in his jaw when he replies. Allura does her best to keep her eyes front, but the more her father digs out the brief elements of his past, she can't help but feel sick and even guilty for having prodded so bluntly earlier. "Six months. Worked with Interpol on a case that took us there."
Alfor nods again. This time his expression is solemn. "Thace was a good man. I worked with him before on a case twelve years ago. You have my condolences."
"Sir," Shirogane's voice was carefully neutral. Allura tucked her arms behind her back at a more at-ease stance, all to hide how her fingers wanted to fidget.
"So, I will not beat anymore around the bush," Alfor says before he motions to Antok. Antok steps around them and the action nearly has Allura stumbling against Shirogane. Allura does not see what he does, yet she already knows. The faint sound of a click and faint piercing beep fades to the background and their conversation becomes secure within the sharp frequency, protected from any ears that may be honing from anywhere. Alfor continues once Antok steps back around them to where he last stood. "You were transferred over precisely for one reason, detective, I'm sure you already suspect as to why."
Alfor reached down toward the file on his desk and turned it around before slapping it on the front of the desk. Allura leaned in, eyes catching the singular stamp of CLASSIFIED and a case number. Alfor sent Antok a look and the broad man took a few steps back to man the door. With a series of glances, Alfor beckoned the other two forward. Allura stepped closer and waited as the Chief flipped the file open. The case file had several pictures, black and white blurred stills that showed the image of a shadowed figure and a white mask.
Allura's heart gives a strange squeeze then. The mask was rounded, as though it were made of porcelain with no prominent features save painted slits for eyes and a disturbing line that angles sharply to look like a smirking mouth. She is far too focused on the pictures and details in the documents to notice Shirogane's hand squeeze his cup hard enough to distort the styrofoam.
"This is Contractor CK465, also known as the Red Reaper," Alfor explains. "We have received intelligence that he has moved from Osaka to the Tokyo area, only this time activity has been spotted closer to this district than anywhere else. Already we're seeing a sharp increase in criminal activity in various areas here. Several murders have been linked to his usual MO and we already have a task force assembling for this particular case."
"Chief," Allura intervenes for a moment. "This is the first I've heard of this Red Reaper, how has he been so underground if his work is this extensive?"
"The Red Reaper isn't like other contractors," Shirogane replies. Allura glances at him with a start, and her eyes widen to see the frigid expression over his face. Dark enough that it made Allura's blood run chill. "He has been known to hide his work beneath other Contractors' activity. You'd only be able to know more if you know where to look."
"Precisely," Chief Alfor says. "He has several other codenames in other districts, and at times his work goes unnoticed under other Contractor behavior. However, intel from the Observatory has consistently found activity from his assigned star during the time and dates of the murders and other documented criminal activity. He's elusive and clever, however, we've done a great job taking down clever Contractors before. It is for this reason that we're pleased to have you as a consultant for this case, Detective."
Shirogane's expression slackens to that of surprise before narrowing.
"Sir, if I may," Shirogane takes a step forward. "If you've read my file then you should know this isn't like any other Contractor case. The most anyone has been able to connect has been star activity and images shared in the international community. If we've been able to narrow down his behavior to this country, then we're looking at a very limited window to try to catch him."
"What experience you have dealt with the Reaper is greatly noted, Detective," Alfor meets Shirogane's gaze evenly. "However, your understanding of this part of the city is standard at best. To find more information, we need more than previous experience. We require instinct and intuition of the city's streets, which is why you, Detective Allura, will be the head of this case."
"Sir?" Shirogane's voice is surprised just as they meet each other's gaze.
"Detective Allura is the best of our precinct," Alfor explains. "She knows this city better than most experienced cops here. I trust her judgment better than most."
"No offense," Shirogane quips with a tone that makes Allura bristle. "But, no one here knows the Reaper better than I do. I apologize, sir, but my understanding of my transfer was not as a simple consult."
"Oh, rest assured, Detective," Alfor replies. "You will have more clearance in this case than you are lead to believe by this. Nevertheless, I have concluded that this case is led by someone who is not so close to this man as you are. Don't take this personally, but to avoid any mistakes, you will be under the direction of your assigned Senior. Is that clear?"
Shirogane's jaw tightens shut. he says nothing at that. Allura tilts her chin, appraising him in a newer light.
Alfor's expression is calm, collected. Yet Allura sees the gleam of sharp tact working beneath her father's gaze, one she has only seen when he has discovered a secret few are privy to. "I said, is that clear, Detective?"
A fierce tension blooms in the room as Allura takes in the crinkling cup in Shirogane's hand. His eyes are steel and stone, staring with such intensity at the Chief that Allura felt something in her desire to step between them. However, just as quickly as it came, bruising the air with its abrupt arrival, it had gone, leaving a sting in the air that could only be attributed to a blow to Shirogane's pride. The cup in his hand resumes its shape as he relaxes his hold and he gives them both a nod.
"Very well," Shirogane says. "I understand."
"Good," Alfor gives him a nod. "I suggest the two of you get working on getting to know each other. Senior Detective Allura, I expect you to show your new Junior how we work here in Roppongi. Dismissed."
Bodies straightening, the duo exclaim a strong, "Yes, sir!"
What follows can only be a singular glance that Allura just knows has done enough to redefine their earlier conversation as a thing of the past. This certainly was not at all what she had expected from her first case as a Senior Detective, and little did she know that there would not be the end of the twists and turns this case would throw her life into.
The scent of greasy food and the promise of an evening stuffed with carbs is the only thing keeping Allura's head from exploding into a full-on migraine. The day went... not entirely as expected. It is difficult to consider the cute new guy as more than just a co-worker. He is now her subordinate so flirting and giggling was right out. She had expected a rocky start, ready for a moment when he would undermine her with a glance or with a sly phrase beneath his breath. Instead, Shirogane Takashi had been nothing more but the picture of an ideal junior detective. With their task force needing further assembling, the rest of the day had gone with Allura familiarizing herself with the case and the pictures of the Contractor the city knew as the Red Reaper.
There was, however, the undeniable tension that boiled between the shoulders of her junior. All great manners aside, he was polite and respectful, but there was a clear dissatisfaction that egged Allura into preparing for a moment when Shirogane would snap and sigh, or grunt something and destroy the delicate bridge they found themselves upon. Yet, the moment never came, and later that evening, when they bid their farewells in a cooly, if pleasant, way, Allura leaves the station with a scowl on her face. By the time she makes it to her standard-issue class vehicle, a new wave of fresh knots squeezes at the base of her neck and upper back. The tension will not leave easily and she has an evening to spend eating greasy fries and pumping her arms over a treadmill back at her apartment to unleash it.
Mindy's, thankfully, was on the way back home and Allura lets out a slow sigh as she flicks her blinker and makes the turn into the fast-food joint. Any other day she would've pulled right into the drive-thru and made her order then, but today's new round of tension has left her feeling wired enough to loathe being stuck in her car longer than necessary.
The air was cool for the late May evening and Allura pauses only to readjust her ponytail and take a glance into her dashboard mirror. The view was unsatisfactory, strands of her hair stick out in odd ways from hours of being tugged by her fingers over and over. She glares flatly at the mirror and pulls the hair tie from her silver hair, allowing herself this moment of rare respite. Outside her car, Allura's hair sways just below her hips at the cool sigh of the evening breeze.
This feels much better already.
She walks into the restaurant, swinging the door with almost too much force and ready to drown her frustrations in a tall order of meat and cheese. Her eyes settle on the ground ahead of her, too preoccupied with details of the case and the latest deal with her new partner when a sudden force slams into her, and Allura is nearly thrown off her feet.
"Shit!" she hears in English and the sound of ice and liquid hits her ears the moment she feels a waterfall of icy deluge rush down her front. Allura gives a tight shriek of shock, jumping back and almost slips. A hand catches her by the wrist and yanks her back, steadying her. Already her eyes narrow, preparing to stab into the eyes of the idiot who wasn't paying attention to where they were going. Instead, she is met face-to-face with gunmetal blue eyes and a similarly surprised expression.
"Ah, fuck," the curse is uttered just as it passes through her mind, only it comes out her assailant's lips rather than her own. "I'm sorry, shit."
Allura pauses as the man in front of her alternates between swearing in English and Japanese with comical ease. He isn't very tall, probably an inch or two taller than her, but his features are sharp and his hair is styled in the kind of longer style that was rather fashionable and edge among younger people in Japan. He is dressed simply, nothing more than a black tee and cargo pants, a red jacket crossing at the arms over his hips, and even a pair of black fingerless gloves.
"It's fine," she says in English, and judging by his expression, he's somewhat relieved she is. "It is."
"You've got coke all over your suit and you think it's fine?" He arches a brow at her.
Allura glances down at herself and spots the grown dark stain now spreading icy black fingers over her dark violet pantsuit. She sighs, wilting with disgust. "It was an accident," she says and she's too tired to feel any more anger than is justly deserved. "Accidents happen. I wasn't paying attention either, so I suppose I was due for just desserts."
"You're not from around here, are you?" her assailant says and he's got a wry smirk on. Allura raises a brow.
"Do you want me to start screaming at you?" she huffs and to her surprise, his smirk broadens. He has the decency to look bashful at that point.
"My bad," he says. He doesn't have much of an accent, just the slightest touch of Japanese that grazes his consonants charmingly. "Can I make it up to you?"
"It's not that big of a deal," Allura shakes her head, lifting her finger toward the soda-sticky buttons of her suit jacket. "I have a spare set of clothes in the back of my trunk. I'll just change into those."
"Well, let me get you your order," he says with a shrug. "Least I could do and then we'll be out of each other's hair."
Allura finds the comment amusing if a bit odd. "You'd do something nice for someone just to get out of their hair?"
"I don't like leaving debts unpaid," he says and points to the mess on the ground between them. "Plus, I also lost my food in the process of nearly killing you just now. Two birds."
The sarcasm and hyperbole are fresh to her ears and Allura lets out a snort despite herself. She supposed it made sense, better to make amends than to pay the piper. She needs no further coaxing and gives him a nod.
"Very well, I'll just get changed in the bathroom. But I'm still buying my food."
"No promises," he replies, and after a moment he sort of shifts and tugs his hands in his pockets. "I'm Keith, by the way."
"Keith?" she cocks her chin curiously. She would give him a deeper look of critical appraisal if not for the exhausted-looking service worker approaching them with a mop and a bucket of murky soap water. Keith steps out the door after her to give the poor kid space to work and mutters to himself bitterly.
"Yeah," Keith says and tugs out a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to her. "You've got coke on your chin."
Allura blinks in surprise and takes the handkerchief, rubbing it over the sticky cool spots of soda on her jaw and neck. "Thanks. I'm Allura."
"I'd say this was a pleasure but there's a good chance we might've killed each other if circumstances were different." Allura purses her lips to stifle a laugh and sighs.
"You're lucky I'm exhausted," she says and makes to pass him his handkerchief. "Otherwise I might've done just that."
"Seems we share a boat," Keith shakes his head, making a jerky movement with his chin. "Keep it. Goes to pay the debt."
"Enchanting," Allura hums but pockets the handkerchief anyway. "I'm going to grab those spare clothes."
"What do you want to eat?" He asks as she begins to step away. Allura doesn't linger, already turning to walk back toward her car.
"Number three combo with animal-style fries," she says over her shoulder.
"Three heart attacks and an artery clogger," he shoots back. "Got it."
Allura tosses a glance at him as she continues walking, sees him make a swift turn on his heels, and heads back into the restaurant. This is twice she's had a meeting with an attractive man and a potential "meet-cute" set up. That's two in a row. On the same day. Either Karma was finally coming around or it was about time she gave her mother a call. Years of managing a strict career in law enforcement didn't exactly arrange the chips to fall in the romantic department in her life. Sure, she's had a few sparking romances in her years as a teenager and young adult, but when your boyfriend of five years suddenly exhibits amoral behavior years after the arrival of the Gates, it makes it difficult to find romance anew.
Allura reaches toward her car's trunk and waves her wristwatch in front of the lock. In a moment, she hears a click and the trunk pops open. She finds the spare clothing in a box to the right, away from other organized things she keeps for any present moment. She even has a bag of toiletries for when a day at work becomes an overnight stay though she doubts they had a shower here at Mindy's.
She pauses for a moment after she retrieves the clean clothes, looking up at the vast canopy that was the deep mauve sky. Stars above twinkle overhead, mimicking the sight of an older sky where stars were actual heavenly figures rather than correlated shapes attached to the lives of the people the world now associates as Contractors. A moment passes and suddenly a star shoots across the heavens, leaving a streak that becomes swallowed by black and nothingness.
Allura's eyes widen and she pulls out her phone, dialing quickly and waiting only a couple of moments before the line clicks.
"Observatory, this is Shay."
"Shay, it's me," Allura says as her eyes trail the sky for further signs of astral activity. "I just saw a star fall, can you tell me what star it was and any other active stars?"
"Sure thing, Detective. Just a moment." Allura's eyes find nothing else, save the twinkling and an ominous feeling in her stomach working. "Positive on a fallen star. It was star number FB142, a man named Hewett Takameda also known as Varkon. there are two other stars currently active, number HT823 and FA129."
"Could you run a correlation with that death with star number CK465? Is that star active or has it been active within the past six hours?"
"Certainly, just a moment." Allura glances away from the sky to tug her clean clothes into a plastic bag she keeps in a compartment to the opposite side. Shay's voice appears just as she's shutting the trunk and heading toward the restaurant. "Negative on activity. No behavioral patterns were spotted either. Star CK465 has been dormant for two weeks."
Allura frowns but the sinking feeling in her stomach fades away. She lets out a sigh as she finally reaches the main doors. "Alright, thank you, Shay. Please keep me on tabs with that star's activity."
"Yes, detective. Have a good evening."
She presses the END CALL button just as she strides inside Mindy's main doors, dodging the slick floor and the caution: wet sign. Up ahead, she spots Keith, standing by the food pickup area and staring down at the screen of his smartphone. He hasn't noticed her walking in and she heads straight in the direction of the bathrooms. Four minutes later of changing out of her uncomfortably damp clothes, wiping off as much coke product from her skin as she could, and sliding into a pair of clean, black suit pants and a pink button-up blouse, Allura is ready to head back out the door. She pauses at the mirror, glancing down at her appearance and messing with her hair a bit before pinching her lips and walking outside. There was no use doing much else, she doesn't waste much time with make-up aside from eyeliner and lip color.
Back outside and into the main area, Allura finds Keith holding on to a tray of food in various paper bags. He glances up from his phone just as she approaches. Her wedge heels clack against the tile certainly. His eyes follow her new appearance and she isn't sure how to handle the little nod he gives before meeting her gaze.
"Didn't know if you wanted it to go, so I just winged it," he says without much preamble. Allura frowns and gives him a look.
"I told you I was going to buy my food."
"You were taking hours," he says and began to walk toward a booth. Allura follows with a sigh but says nothing else. "Besides, it'll make me feel better knowing we could part ways after this. Debt repaid all that."
"You really care about debts, don't you," she asks and she catches how his jaw gives a little twitch a that. He shrugs and places the tray on a booth and slides right in. Allura notes his abrupt silence and sits down after him, reaching for her bag of food. It's then that she realizes there were far too many bags than what she told him to order.
"I didn't order these," she says, glancing curiously at some of them.
"Those are mine," Keith replies as he slides the tray to the side, focusing on one bag and pulling out food to place on the table. Allura blinks in surprise as he begins to dig in but says nothing as she follows. The lack of conversation between them begins to stray into the awkward silence and without much else on what to talk about Allura finds herself unable to save the atmosphere. Keith doesn't seem particularly bothered by the silence, unwrapping chicken sandwiches and plucking chicken tenders from greasy paper bags and eating in silence.
What happened to the snarky banter of earlier? Allura isn't sure how to answer that question, only that she takes bites of her burger and fries with a little less enthusiasm. The exhaustion begins to hit and as she considers the possibility she was going to probably just head to bed when she got homemade she was less hungry. Burgers and fries were great but only before an intense workout. Without the carb-killing routine to follow she might as well sign up for a growing pants size.
"What's the matter, is your food okay?"
Allura glances up from her half-eaten burger to meet Keith's expression, curious and just a little cool in how he studied her. "It's fine," she says. "I'm just... it's been a long day. Perhaps, it wasn't such a great idea to eat so late."
"Tell me about it," he says. Allura reels, tilting her chin in confusion, and watches as he digs through another bag and pulls out another chicken sandwich. "Your day, tell me about it."
"Do you have a black hole for a stomach? How many sandwiches have you had?" she says through an incredulous snort.
"This is my fifth and you're deflecting. Go on, let loose."
Allura fights back the urge to gape and lowers her burger to reach for a couple of fries. She doesn't know him... should she? Inwardly shrugging, Allura leans on her elbows and picks at a fry.
"It's... well, this may come as a shock to you, but I'm a cop." Keith doesn't slow or even appear moderately surprised, he just takes another bite of his sandwich and sucks a bit of sauce from his thumb into his mouth. The action was not awful to see... if anything he might as well have been a model posing in one of those Mindy's commercials. Allura feels a churn of envy at his apparent lack of self-control and the clear-cut curves of his body beneath his shirt. No doubt blessed with a speedy metabolism.
"You're right, I am shocked," Keith says through a mouthful of food and swallows. Allura glares pointedly at him, to which he responds with a cheeky smirk.
"I was recently assigned a new case and my partner..." she trails off, uncertain how to feel about engaging in anything even remotely gossipy about her newest partner. Shirogane doesn't exactly seem like the sort of person who deserves to be talked about behind his back. Allura leans back and sighs. "It's just...complicated, I suppose. That's all. Life of a cop, all pain and no glory."
"Sounds exciting," Keith hums and pauses from his meal. "Is it everything you ever wished it would be?"
Allura frowns, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, it means what it means," he says with a careless shrug. "You obviously prepared years for this, you don't seem like you hate your job. It's just another day in the life of crime-fighting. Is it everything you wished it would be?"
Allura can't help but narrow her gaze on his and there's an odd sort of flatness in his gaze that pushes her to reach across the table and pull at his hair. "What about you? Have you found your dream job?"
"My life doesn't really matter here. You're deflecting."
Allura sputters and straightens in her seat. "Your life doesn't--you don't seem to offer much in return to the question you're asking."
"How badly do you want to know?" Keith retorts and when he moves, he leans his elbows on the table and locks his fingers together beneath his chin. "If you're curious, shoot me a question."
"Alright, fine," Allura crosses her arms on the table and meets his stare with her own. "You're obviously fluent in English and Japanese. You know the city well enough. How long have you been here in Japan?"
"Four years," he replies easily. "I was born here and raised in Texas. Tried the whole college route, not my thing."
"So, what," Allura clicks her tongue, "You're just meandering in Roppongi?"
"I have a few odd jobs, but who doesn't when they're my age?" Keith shrugs and he smiles at her suddenly. "So, back to my question."
Allura finds herself feeling annoyed, but she sighs and decides to bite. "No, it isn't. It's far from the dreams one would have as a kid wanting to be a cop, but it's a career and I'm saving lives. It's either that or settling for meaningless rotations of the same over and over again. I'm sure you can relate."
A flash of surprise flits through Keith's eyes and his smile fades. "What makes you say that?"
"Born here, raised in Texas, probably dropped out of college and you don't have a stable job?" Allura reaches for a fry and stuffs it past her teeth. The soft potato bursts on her tongue in a mess of carbs and salt. "You hate simple routines and you spend your time at a fast-food joint eating fifteen chicken sandwiches. Though you seem smart, judging by your wit and how easily you've kept your English despite living away from America for a long time."
"You got all that from what little I told you?" Keith lets out a little whistle and lets out a soft laugh. "Color me impressed, miss detective."
"It's my job," Allura says and reaches back down to grab her left-over food. "Anyway, thanks for buying me dinner. I've got a curfew and an early meeting to attend."
"Sorry about ruining your suit," Keith says and does nothing as she stands up and takes her tray with her. "Maybe I'll see you around again."
Not likely, Allura thought to herself but gives him a curt bow and grabs her things. She walks over toward the nearest trash bin and tosses the remains of her food and walks out of the store. She pauses outside the glass doors to glance back through one of the windows. She spots him reaching back into a paper bag and pulling out yet another foil-wrapped sandwich and works on unwrapping it. It was a bizarre interaction to be sure, and she wasn't sure if this counted as one of those "meet-cutes" but something in that conversation made her want to move.
Shaking her head, Allura walks back to her car and settles in, realizing only several hours later (after she hit the treadmill anyway and took a hot shower) that she still has his handkerchief. She pulls it out from the pocket of her coke-stained pants and spreads it out. Dark coke stains are spread like filth over the soft fabric and Allura makes a note to wash it and keep it with her if they should ever meet again. If she gives this back, maybe he'll truly be out of her hair once and for all. She's about to throw it back with her dirty laundry when her eyes spot a peculiar detail. At the edge of the cloth near the corner, there was only a single letter stitched finely into the cloth.
A single red K.