The clock on the office wall ticked louder than it had any right to.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Armed Detective Agency, casting long rectangles across the wooden floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams.
It was, by all accounts, an average day. The kind of day where paperwork piled up on desks and tea went cold before it could be finished.
And yet, the entire office was holding its breath.
Kunikida Doppo
flips a page of his notebook with forced deliberateness...
The silver-haired man wasn't writing. His pen hovered, unmoving, over the paper.
Yosano Akiko
from behind her medical journal, mutters under her breathNot yet. Not yet. Any second now...
Nakajima Atsushi
whispers, eyes wideAre they going to talk today? Do you think they'll actually talk today?
Dazai Osamu
sprawled dramatically across his desk, smirkingPatience, Atsushi-kun. A watched pot never boils. Or in this case, a watched couple never makes a move.
On the far couch, Edogawa Ranpo reclined with one arm draped over the back, hat pulled low over his eyes. He looked utterly relaxed. Bored, even.
On the couch opposite him sat Y/n.
The air between them was thick. Heavy with something no one dared name out loud.
Neither of them looked at the other.
Neither of them had spoken a single word in twenty minutes.
The whole room waited, like an audience before the curtain rises on a show they'd already paid to see.
