Vere waited to help the Warden only precisely a couple of seconds before he stopped vomiting. Then, feigning concern, he hopped over the counter and patted Koizuki on the back, a towel in his other hand.
"You alright, kid? Need something to wash off…I have this towel if ya want it?" Suppressing his laughter to an inward cackle, he really did seem genuinely troubled out of guilt to Koizuki. Yet that continuous "kid" statement irked the young man…
He still felt a little touched and waved Vere off. Royal purple energy fluctuated around him and covered his face, erasing the barf that obscured it just moments before.
"Yeesh, that looks like it comes in handy. You must have experience with liquid all over your face?" Vere went back over to his side of the bartender counter and marveled at the abilities of the Ragtime Paradise. What kind of bar sent the bile you aimed at it back to you?
He got the feeling that in his past, bars seemed to simply absorb that bile. No matter how many times you labored over the place with bucket and mop, even using bleach didn't get that subtle smell of gastric acid out.
That, and whatever the guy ate or drank.
"Ha-ha. Very funny, Mr. Vere. So where are we?"
"Well, wouldn't you know? This is the Shattered Skyscraper Mall, a new place, basically. This is my bar, Ragtime Paradise. Since you know my name and I only know like three people, tell your boss Morrigan that the skyscraper changed when I entered it, okay?" Vere wasn't about to rat out Othello, not for anyone, really. The demoness was just kind to him for not really any reason at all.
As for his suspicions? They were mostly alleviated. Sure, she probably had some ulterior motives…but who didn't? Everyone approached everyone with specific thoughts or expectations—or they might not have thought anything at all. But to have your own wants? Well, that was only normal.
Completely natural, in fact. It probably went doubly so for a demon.
Koizuki's eyes abruptly widened at the mention of Morrigan before his chest heaved a great sigh.
"So, this place isn't any different than the regular B-Side. Okay, that's good. I can leave then?"
"Sure thing. Go ahead." Vere gave a wave and gestured towards the door. Koizuki got up from where he sat and placed a hand on the door but didn't leave.
"Hey, those scars on your arm…it must be rough to carry such a burden without any memories…!" He left the place abruptly after saying that and fled from the B-Side before Vere could question him.
Our detective shrugged and walked over to the conspiracy board. Gazing at the new set of Details linked together, his digits glazed over a sticky note as he mused.
"A careless hero, huh? He fits that protagonist archetype…I guess." His chest heaved a chuckle of his own as he listened to the music. Sleepiness bade him rest on his feet, allowing him to fall into a half sleep, half perceptive state.
Whenever he slept, he was still aware of what happened in his general direction. This was a cultivated behavior ingrained into his very being, further amplified by the domain effect of Ragtime Paradise.
——
Morrigan reclined in her chair, smiling to herself. A black fog materialized and spread from atop her head and coalesced into a shadowed figure that mirrored her movements, facing her directly.
It began to bear a bit of her likeness, stopping at around 70% of the resemblance to her appearance. Tendrils of black slithering strands of hair floated, flew, and fell, while the eyes of the figure were a mottled green. It seemed to be wearing a cloak, and one of its arms ended at the elbow.
Morrigan walked to the window, taking in Monfrey's five moons. The neon shimmer of various buildings and their windows entered her eyes, multiple hovercars and hovercrafts in general dotting this distance of Old Westwood.
Night. Monfrey itself seemed to have a preference for this time, at least when it came to the movement of Suspects. While plenty of things happened in the day, plenty more occurred at night.
The nights in Monfrey lasted an irregular 13 hours, after all. That only left 11 hours of fluctuating sunlight, so it was easy to simply sleep through the most well-lit hours of the day.
That's why various Cities and other places had so many lights that it seemed ridiculous. Thankfully, the power system could go on forever thanks to certain discoveries.
And certain Wardens.
Morrigan turned to her Sensus, the One-Arme Abaddone. She had already updated her Signature with the information Koizuki messaged her, and she had a Case to give Vere.
There was one…no, two slight problems. One, she didn't register her SAD to Vere's, so she would have to fetch him after all. Two, Vere would have to leave the B-Side for this one, and she wasn't sure how he'd fare out without any money.
Maybe she could give him a little advance payment? But, no, no, that didn't cultivate good habits for Wardens. I mean…she gave an advance payment to Gunther long ago, and now he's in sorta semi debt?
That blonde-haired shifty Cognitive Magus probably won't repay her, though. This is precisely why he got the most demanding Cases to help on.
The thought of him working on the Aegean Paint-Talker case put a smile on her face. A suspicious set of paintings—primarily in blue colors, have been spotted graffitied all over Old Westwood, and strong cognitive force readings accompanied them. Along with several bodies dipped in buckets of paint, messages spewing out of their mouths in that same paint.
It was odd how the readings appeared and randomly disappeared. The Suspect either had helpers or was simply skilled at cloaking their presence—only revealing the remaining energy hours after they had already left.
But that wasn't the Case she would give Vere…that was way too advanced and would take quite a long time. Hell, Wardens were working on it right now!
Her stomach grew queasy just thinking of how much paperwork she had to do since then. Ugh.
No, it was something else. The branch office for a famous clothing brand—JJ&R's—has been experiencing many problems recently.
Issues that may involve combustion, conflagration, and various forms of smoke suddenly appearing out of nowhere…
That, coupled with cognitive readings, seemed evocative of the presence of a Suspect. More specifically, an Inciter type.
Morrigan tapped her cheek as her Sensus bowed and disappeared, off to deliver the message.
——
Shadows coalesced into a figure, and though it didn't quite want to be seated, it was forced to form above a barstool. Vere stood at the counter, humming to himself as he turned around and glanced at his customer.
"So, what would you like?" He reached for the wine in the lower cabinets and took it out, popping open a fresh one. The shadow waved dismissively, almost as if it was confused.
It then gestured to itself with an index finger, tilting its head quizzically. Vere nodded, pouring the wine into a chilled glass, mixing fresh orange juice and other additional ingredients before sliding it down the counter.
The One-Arme Abadonne tapped on the glass, investigating what exactly it was supposed to do. When it looked up, it caught Vere gesturing to it, raising the cup to his mouth and mock gulping it down.
So the figure simply raised the cup and poured it onto its head. Interestingly, the contents of the glass disappeared within it as it began to make happy expressions, its body language softening.
Vere couldn't help but laugh at the series of events.
"So, what're you here for? Your energy seems similar to Morrigan's, not to mention your appearance."
The One-Arme Abaddon shot up, almost visibly flinching. Then, scrambling its singular arm for a bit, the movements accompanied by the frenzied lashes of its hair that moved like tentacles, a voice came from its arm stump.
"Hey there~ Vere~! I finally have a case for you, one that I think you'll like. I'll send you the company's payment after you finish.
Anyways, this one will require you to come back here. Meet me in my office, and I'll give directions to the Old Westwood JJ&R branch office. Bye~!"
Vere nodded in response and stretched his back. He took the time to gaze at his trench coat, wondering whether or not to bring it.
But as his irises slid over to the shadowed figure, he decided not to. It was slightly ripped, anyways, and he wanted to keep it as best he could. Not everything would be the same deal as his gloves, after all.
…He'd probably need replacement soon for those too.