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[yeaaaaaah probably shouldn't lie to a cop]
I'll be 21 in a few months... 😩
I'll be 21 in a few months... 😩
It's not just a gun, but a practiced eye can see that it's a really nice gun. "A Mateba M2008," Togusa comments. "Manufactured in Japan, and this thing's got some custom kicks to it. Something about the configuration eases the double-action, loads the next round faster. Pretty dependable gun from what I read online." For a second, his voice has a little bit of awe in it.
Togusa pauses and his frown is right back in place, like he's forgotten himself for a minute there. "I got sent that. With zero paperwork. And it's completely wiped clean of prints, and the serial number doesn't come up on the domestic registry." Togusa pulls a file folder out from behind where the case had been sitting. "Japanese make, so I put in an inquiry with the international registry, but that could take weeks to come back."
Togusa drops the file folder containing his paper trail of fucking nothing onto the bench. "Point being that Retrospec just handed me a probably illegal gun using a very illegal method and I have no idea what to do about it." So that's where he's sitting, and why he's coming to Fynn.
Togusa pauses and his frown is right back in place, like he's forgotten himself for a minute there. "I got sent that. With zero paperwork. And it's completely wiped clean of prints, and the serial number doesn't come up on the domestic registry." Togusa pulls a file folder out from behind where the case had been sitting. "Japanese make, so I put in an inquiry with the international registry, but that could take weeks to come back."
Togusa drops the file folder containing his paper trail of fucking nothing onto the bench. "Point being that Retrospec just handed me a probably illegal gun using a very illegal method and I have no idea what to do about it." So that's where he's sitting, and why he's coming to Fynn.
Whatever you say, Fynn.
I'll talk to you again later.
[And later it'll be. When Fynn returns home, Ardyn can be found in the study, laptop open at his desk, looking over some work emails. He figures that Fynn will find him sooner or later; there are a limited number of places to find him in his own home, after all. One of Ardyn's cats sleeps under the desk while he works.]
I'll talk to you again later.
[And later it'll be. When Fynn returns home, Ardyn can be found in the study, laptop open at his desk, looking over some work emails. He figures that Fynn will find him sooner or later; there are a limited number of places to find him in his own home, after all. One of Ardyn's cats sleeps under the desk while he works.]
Fynn's eyes widen a little as he stares at this gun with such reverence. "Manfactured in Japan? I thought this particular series were Italian. The Mateba Autorevolver is the brain child of one Emilio Ghisoni during the late 1990s." Fynn mutters as he tries to get a better look at this revolver. "I'll be honest with you, it's hard pressed to find a gun like this in the States." He turns to Togusa for a moment.
"If you wasn't a cop, you would be deep shit right now. This bad boy beats out our semiautomatics easily." Fynn glances back at the gun again. "Standard Issue can't stand up to this bitch." He falls silent as Togusa explains how he became the proud owner of a Mateba overnight. "No paperwork?" Fynn arches his brow at that. "So this is really a Japanese take on the classic Mateba? Holy shit---" There's a look of awe and worry within his blue eyes. Fynn is mildly spooked here.
"Sounds like someone is trying to get your ass in trouble." He mutters quietly as if afraid the walls could talk. "This is one hell of a gift but also quite the headache."
"If you wasn't a cop, you would be deep shit right now. This bad boy beats out our semiautomatics easily." Fynn glances back at the gun again. "Standard Issue can't stand up to this bitch." He falls silent as Togusa explains how he became the proud owner of a Mateba overnight. "No paperwork?" Fynn arches his brow at that. "So this is really a Japanese take on the classic Mateba? Holy shit---" There's a look of awe and worry within his blue eyes. Fynn is mildly spooked here.
"Sounds like someone is trying to get your ass in trouble." He mutters quietly as if afraid the walls could talk. "This is one hell of a gift but also quite the headache."
Edited 2017-03-25 16:10 (UTC)
[By the time Fynn finally makes it home, it's a little past eight and he looks completely bushed. His long brown hair is messier than usual and the deep circles under his eyes almost look engraved to his face. He drops his work duffle bag by the door, almost crushing poor Erebus who damn near barrel rolled out the way. Fynn takes off his heavy boots next and loosens the collar of his black shirt. His black tie goes flying onto the couch and the kitties are already toying with it.
The officer places his gun down on a nearby table along with his badge and cuffs. Don't worry, Ardyn, the safety is on and Fynn does take a moment to empty the barrel. There's kids in the house. Eventually after getting a much needed glass of water, Fynn makes his way towards the study. There he hears the telltale sound of Ardyn clicking away on the laptop.]
Sorry for keeping you waiting. [Excuse Fynn if he doesn't sound so great. His voice is a tad raspy.] Ended up covering briefly for a colleague.
The officer places his gun down on a nearby table along with his badge and cuffs. Don't worry, Ardyn, the safety is on and Fynn does take a moment to empty the barrel. There's kids in the house. Eventually after getting a much needed glass of water, Fynn makes his way towards the study. There he hears the telltale sound of Ardyn clicking away on the laptop.]
Sorry for keeping you waiting. [Excuse Fynn if he doesn't sound so great. His voice is a tad raspy.] Ended up covering briefly for a colleague.
[Ardyn hears Fynn approaching before his brother even speaks to him, and he stops working at his emails to halfway turn in his chair to look at the man. He takes in both his appearance and the tone of his voice, arching a brow.
A moment of consideration, then:]
You look worse for wear.
[He waves at an empty chair located nearby. It's another desk chair, the kind with wheels; not exactly a plush, comfy armchair, but it'll do if Fynn wants to rest his feet for now.]
Difficult day? We can have this talk in the morning if you'd prefer.
A moment of consideration, then:]
You look worse for wear.
[He waves at an empty chair located nearby. It's another desk chair, the kind with wheels; not exactly a plush, comfy armchair, but it'll do if Fynn wants to rest his feet for now.]
Difficult day? We can have this talk in the morning if you'd prefer.
Allergies.
[Not quite. Fynn is actually sick but he doesn't want to admit it. Too prideful or dumb, whichever.]
Everyday is a difficult day but it makes no sense to complain. I'm fine, Ardyn.
[He flops down on the chair beside Ardyn with a grateful sigh. His poor feet are killing him. Every ache and pain he tried to ease away this morning with a hot shower came back with vengeance. That explains why Fynn looks so downright miserable right now, his bones ache.]
Besides, this sounds...urgent.
[Not quite. Fynn is actually sick but he doesn't want to admit it. Too prideful or dumb, whichever.]
Everyday is a difficult day but it makes no sense to complain. I'm fine, Ardyn.
[He flops down on the chair beside Ardyn with a grateful sigh. His poor feet are killing him. Every ache and pain he tried to ease away this morning with a hot shower came back with vengeance. That explains why Fynn looks so downright miserable right now, his bones ache.]
Besides, this sounds...urgent.
[Ardyn has learned over the years that when people are adamant about saying that they're fine, often times it means the opposite. And he knows Fynn well enough to tell when something is off. He's not quick to accept the "allergies" explanation.]
It is. But I've waited this long. Another day won't hurt.
[Ardyn's chair also has wheels, and with one easy glide, he lackadaisically rolls over closer to Fynn. He extends his arm, reaching out with the back of his hand to feel at his brother's forehead.]
You're warm. Are you getting sick?
It is. But I've waited this long. Another day won't hurt.
[Ardyn's chair also has wheels, and with one easy glide, he lackadaisically rolls over closer to Fynn. He extends his arm, reaching out with the back of his hand to feel at his brother's forehead.]
You're warm. Are you getting sick?
*Theater* arts. Quality entertainment doesn't just pop out of thin air, you know.
No.
[Fynn lies as he slaps Ardyn's hand away. He definitely feels warmer than he should but Fynn ironically has the chills.]
So what's all this about?
[He's desperately trying to change the subject, more proof that Fynn is sick like a dog. The idiot probably overworked himself one too many days and got sick. A likely case since he's been working long fourteen hour shifts as of late. One of their department members outright vanished, some guy in the K-9 unit.]
I think I have three more hours in me.
[Fynn lies as he slaps Ardyn's hand away. He definitely feels warmer than he should but Fynn ironically has the chills.]
So what's all this about?
[He's desperately trying to change the subject, more proof that Fynn is sick like a dog. The idiot probably overworked himself one too many days and got sick. A likely case since he's been working long fourteen hour shifts as of late. One of their department members outright vanished, some guy in the K-9 unit.]
I think I have three more hours in me.
[Ardyn frowns in obvious disapproval as his hand is slapped away. God, what a stubborn little brother. Some things never change, and Ardyn has not gotten out of his habit of fussing over him when it's obvious he's neglected taking care of himself.
He clicks his tongue, vaguely annoyed.]
Very well. You wish to know? [Guess what? Ardyn's priorities have flipped around. He's now more concerned about Fynn's health (the idiot probably overworked himself again) than he is about talking about memories. So Fynn gets the most flippant answer Ardyn can manage. It's basically the sparknotes version of the conversation he was planning on having.]
I remember three strange monsters, being an insufferable individual on a train full of snow, and healing the sick.
[Patronizingly:] That took far less than three hours. You can spend the rest of it in bed. Resting.
He clicks his tongue, vaguely annoyed.]
Very well. You wish to know? [Guess what? Ardyn's priorities have flipped around. He's now more concerned about Fynn's health (the idiot probably overworked himself again) than he is about talking about memories. So Fynn gets the most flippant answer Ardyn can manage. It's basically the sparknotes version of the conversation he was planning on having.]
I remember three strange monsters, being an insufferable individual on a train full of snow, and healing the sick.
[Patronizingly:] That took far less than three hours. You can spend the rest of it in bed. Resting.
[Fynn wouldn't be an "Izunia" if he wasn't stubborn. It's simply in their blood. The Izunias are like stubborn weeds, they refuse to die even when uprooted.]
....Really, Ardyn? [He rolls his eyes so hard that they almost get stuck.] Wow. Are you certain that's it? You made it sound far more grand than just that! Sounds like you fell asleep last night with the TV on.
[More eye rolling ensues!]
I don't need rest. I just need coffee.
[Fynn grumbles as he rises out of the chair with a slightly fumble. He's not too steady on his feet. Must be allergies.]
....Really, Ardyn? [He rolls his eyes so hard that they almost get stuck.] Wow. Are you certain that's it? You made it sound far more grand than just that! Sounds like you fell asleep last night with the TV on.
[More eye rolling ensues!]
I don't need rest. I just need coffee.
[Fynn grumbles as he rises out of the chair with a slightly fumble. He's not too steady on his feet. Must be allergies.]
[There's a lot more to his memories than just that, but Ardyn is not going to spend time talking about it now, especially with Fynn trying to get a cup of coffee at, what? 8 pm?]
No, you don't.
[Ardyn doesn't get up, but reaches out to grasp tightly at Fynn's wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point. Surely.]
At least... not coffee. Lie down on the couch in the living room and I'll make you tea. [His mind, forever searching for what others might view as a fair compromise (even if it's just really him being shrewd when he feels it's necessary), churns for his next words.] I can tell you more about these memories of mine as I prepare it. Then you can decide if they sound like the ramblings of a madman.
No, you don't.
[Ardyn doesn't get up, but reaches out to grasp tightly at Fynn's wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point. Surely.]
At least... not coffee. Lie down on the couch in the living room and I'll make you tea. [His mind, forever searching for what others might view as a fair compromise (even if it's just really him being shrewd when he feels it's necessary), churns for his next words.] I can tell you more about these memories of mine as I prepare it. Then you can decide if they sound like the ramblings of a madman.
[The sudden hand up on his wrist is a welcome one since Fynn was about to fall flat upon his face a second ago. His sense of gravity is nonexistent right now since he feels all congested and ridiculously cold. He swears Ardyn got all the damn windows open in this house. It feels like it's below zero.]
Alright. [Fynn mumbles as he shakes Ardyn's hand off him.] No coffee tonight. I guess I can stomach some tree bark instead. Make sure it's chamomile or something soothing. None of that Horny Goat tea!
[Guess who got pranked at the station once? Yep, this loser here.]
I...I'm still on the fence about all this weird shit happening but hopefully these memories ain't nothing other than dreams.
Alright. [Fynn mumbles as he shakes Ardyn's hand off him.] No coffee tonight. I guess I can stomach some tree bark instead. Make sure it's chamomile or something soothing. None of that Horny Goat tea!
[Guess who got pranked at the station once? Yep, this loser here.]
I...I'm still on the fence about all this weird shit happening but hopefully these memories ain't nothing other than dreams.
Flair like that's wasted on law school, right?
Togusa holds up two fingers. "Way I see it, I've got two options. Keep the gun, there's a big enough loophole in the registration laws that I can get a permit for it and claim it as an import. Say there was a gap in the paperwork there, start a registration domestically. It would be pretty easy to do." He's clearly thought this through.
But then he closes the case up again. "Or I stick this thing down in the evidence locker and we start trying to find out where it came from. We don't have the authority to open a full investigation on Retrospec. But it did get sent from somewhere, there's got to be a trail to follow."
"There's...multiple ways that we could go about starting to try to look into the company. They just handed me a new one." But he looks at the case regretfully. "The choice should be obvious, so why do I want to hang onto this thing so badly?"
But then he closes the case up again. "Or I stick this thing down in the evidence locker and we start trying to find out where it came from. We don't have the authority to open a full investigation on Retrospec. But it did get sent from somewhere, there's got to be a trail to follow."
"There's...multiple ways that we could go about starting to try to look into the company. They just handed me a new one." But he looks at the case regretfully. "The choice should be obvious, so why do I want to hang onto this thing so badly?"
[It's a good enough answer for Ardyn, and so he stands up from his chair, straightening to his full height.]
I was planning on camomile anyway. Honestly, if I was going to serve horny goat tea, you think I'd give it to you?
[It's Ardyn's turn to nearly roll his eyes, but he somehow manages to avoid doing so. Instead, he follows his brother into the living room (keeping an eye on him, so that he doesn't topple over), then gestures to the couch.]
Lie down. [Then, responding to the bit about memories:] They're more than just... dreams, Fynn. I'm guessing you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing one yet.
I was planning on camomile anyway. Honestly, if I was going to serve horny goat tea, you think I'd give it to you?
[It's Ardyn's turn to nearly roll his eyes, but he somehow manages to avoid doing so. Instead, he follows his brother into the living room (keeping an eye on him, so that he doesn't topple over), then gestures to the couch.]
Lie down. [Then, responding to the bit about memories:] They're more than just... dreams, Fynn. I'm guessing you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing one yet.
[Ugh, Ardyn! Why must you be so much taller than him? Fynn feels hilariously short beside his brother and he's actually 5'10 at best. That's actually not short. Not at all.]
Good point. You at least have better tact than my colleagues. [Just barely, though.] But yeah, chamomile tea with some honey if you don't mind.
And no, I haven't had the displeasure of getting to know any long lost memories. I don't think I would want to either.
[The slow trek to the living room is a slow one. Fynn almost keels over a few times thanks to the cat that keeps weaving in between his legs. Honestly, these little furry hellions aren't cute. They're hideous little fur bastards who are trying their best to trip him up and kill him.
Eventually, Fynn does reach the sofa without killing himself. He ungracefully dumps himself into the couch and let's out a pained gasp. He may or may not just laid down upon a certain black cat.]
Erebus. I know those claws anywhere.
[He leans up so the cat and get free.]
Good point. You at least have better tact than my colleagues. [Just barely, though.] But yeah, chamomile tea with some honey if you don't mind.
And no, I haven't had the displeasure of getting to know any long lost memories. I don't think I would want to either.
[The slow trek to the living room is a slow one. Fynn almost keels over a few times thanks to the cat that keeps weaving in between his legs. Honestly, these little furry hellions aren't cute. They're hideous little fur bastards who are trying their best to trip him up and kill him.
Eventually, Fynn does reach the sofa without killing himself. He ungracefully dumps himself into the couch and let's out a pained gasp. He may or may not just laid down upon a certain black cat.]
Erebus. I know those claws anywhere.
[He leans up so the cat and get free.]
[It's your curse, Fynn, being related to a man who's tall enough to be a little intimidating to strangers. But it certainly helps the image of him being the big, older brother, taking care of his baby brother. Making him tea when he was sick (because yes, Fynn, you are indeed sick), and frowning at him when he attempts to squish one of his cats.
Erebus startles, of course, though he isn't the sort to get irritated. He had his claws planted squarely into Fynn's back, but that's only because the poor thing thought it was going to get flattened; when Fynn straightens, Erebus jumps off the couch and disappears down a hallway.]
Fynn, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from trying to smother my cats.
[But into the kitchen he goes! It's not far from being connected to the living room, so while Fynn will lose sight of Ardyn, his voice will still be clear as his speaks.]
Where memories are concerned, I don't think I'd want for you to. [The clinking noises of Ardyn rustling around in the kitchen goes here.] They're confusing and, as I've told others, will cause me to have an existential crisis sooner rather than later if it keeps up.
[It's a joke, but only half of one.]
Erebus startles, of course, though he isn't the sort to get irritated. He had his claws planted squarely into Fynn's back, but that's only because the poor thing thought it was going to get flattened; when Fynn straightens, Erebus jumps off the couch and disappears down a hallway.]
Fynn, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from trying to smother my cats.
[But into the kitchen he goes! It's not far from being connected to the living room, so while Fynn will lose sight of Ardyn, his voice will still be clear as his speaks.]
Where memories are concerned, I don't think I'd want for you to. [The clinking noises of Ardyn rustling around in the kitchen goes here.] They're confusing and, as I've told others, will cause me to have an existential crisis sooner rather than later if it keeps up.
[It's a joke, but only half of one.]
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