The mission was simple. Goro Amarao was to assist in Interpol's apprehension of Lupin III and retrieve the guitar of one Haruko Haruhara a.k.a. Raharu before she managed to
( Read more... )
Accurately predicted, Zenigata was all alone in his office, which may have been both a good and bad thing. Good, because it was tiny to begin with and Koichi didn't necessarily abide by the Cleanliness is Next to Godliness rule. Bad, because it likely just furthered his retreat from humanity as we know it.
The only sounds in the office were the two small fans going, precariously perched on some of the large stacks of paper and manilla folders.
On hearing the knock, Koichi lifted his head slightly, giving a blunt, "Come in."
Inside Zenigata was sitting with his shoes kicked up on his desk, one ankle crossed over the other, sitting back in his chair with his face hidden behind papers he was looking back and forth at. His infamous trench coat and hat were hanging from a wobbly coat rack, along with his suit jacket he really just didn't feel like wearing.
After a few moments dark eyes peered over top of the papers, thick eyelashes batting once under furrowed brows. "Can I help you?"
When he stepped inside, Amarao took a moment to regard the god-awful mess of papers. He sniffed lightly, more to clear his sinuses, and turned his attention to the gruff Inspector.
Tough. You could tell right off. In that weathered, impressive way. There was something about those dark ringed eyes that suggested a bit of derangement; an intensity that most criminals wouldn't want to question.
How did a guy like that get stuck on a gig like this.
"I'm Inspector Amarao. I'm here to work with you on the Lupin case." Fortunately this time not a woman. He'd read a lot of women got put by Zenigata's side in pursuit of the master thief. All meant to tempt him. Most of them tempted by him. Sorta left the Inspector at a loss, he'd guess.
A rectangular eyebrow twitched up. "I take it you and computers don't get along."
"Ah, so you're the one they sent this time?" He put his papers together and tossed them onto the top of his desk, folding his arms. "I guess at least you don't have tits this time." Crude, as usual. The Inspector picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook out one: something to add to the already overflowing ashtray. He looked around at his office at the observation, raising a brow at the accusation of his technophobia. "Never been much of a need for 'em, no," He said, "I'm usually never here anyway. Why ask for the funding when I can use it for more important things?" He lit the cancer stick and puffed away at it, looking mostly unimpressed. "...do they expect you to stay in here?"
"Yes," he responded flatly, unenthused but serious. He walked over to the desk and sat his helmet on the edge of it, before walking to the nearest stack of papers and picked up a file.
"You've been through a lot of partners. Don't worry. I won't be in your hair long. You need Lupin. I need what Lupin has..." He flicked through pages, a little faster than your average person would. But his reading comprehension was high. His observations were swift. They had to be. He didn't have time to go over reports all day in his field of work.
Though he could use with a more efficient filing system.
Silently promising himself to organize this riotous mess at the first opportunity (which would likely come soon, as Amarao had no life to speak of, he looked over his shoulder at Zenigata.
"You're the grandson of the famous detective Zenigata too, aren't you?" he said, indulging in his bad habit of asking questions that led away from the subject at hand. But really, you could learn a lot about a person that way.
Comments 21
The only sounds in the office were the two small fans going, precariously perched on some of the large stacks of paper and manilla folders.
On hearing the knock, Koichi lifted his head slightly, giving a blunt, "Come in."
Inside Zenigata was sitting with his shoes kicked up on his desk, one ankle crossed over the other, sitting back in his chair with his face hidden behind papers he was looking back and forth at.
His infamous trench coat and hat were hanging from a wobbly coat rack, along with his suit jacket he really just didn't feel like wearing.
After a few moments dark eyes peered over top of the papers, thick eyelashes batting once under furrowed brows.
"Can I help you?"
Reply
Tough. You could tell right off. In that weathered, impressive way. There was something about those dark ringed eyes that suggested a bit of derangement; an intensity that most criminals wouldn't want to question.
How did a guy like that get stuck on a gig like this.
"I'm Inspector Amarao. I'm here to work with you on the Lupin case." Fortunately this time not a woman. He'd read a lot of women got put by Zenigata's side in pursuit of the master thief. All meant to tempt him. Most of them tempted by him. Sorta left the Inspector at a loss, he'd guess.
A rectangular eyebrow twitched up. "I take it you and computers don't get along."
Reply
He put his papers together and tossed them onto the top of his desk, folding his arms.
"I guess at least you don't have tits this time."
Crude, as usual. The Inspector picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook out one: something to add to the already overflowing ashtray.
He looked around at his office at the observation, raising a brow at the accusation of his technophobia.
"Never been much of a need for 'em, no," He said, "I'm usually never here anyway. Why ask for the funding when I can use it for more important things?"
He lit the cancer stick and puffed away at it, looking mostly unimpressed.
"...do they expect you to stay in here?"
Reply
"You've been through a lot of partners. Don't worry. I won't be in your hair long. You need Lupin. I need what Lupin has..." He flicked through pages, a little faster than your average person would. But his reading comprehension was high. His observations were swift. They had to be. He didn't have time to go over reports all day in his field of work.
Though he could use with a more efficient filing system.
Silently promising himself to organize this riotous mess at the first opportunity (which would likely come soon, as Amarao had no life to speak of, he looked over his shoulder at Zenigata.
"You're the grandson of the famous detective Zenigata too, aren't you?" he said, indulging in his bad habit of asking questions that led away from the subject at hand. But really, you could learn a lot about a person that way.
Reply
Leave a comment