storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-03-13 03:12 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-03-13 03:12 pm
Stealing Pieces (Luke gen)
Title: Stealing Pieces
Fandom: Professor Layton
Length: 586 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writing_game: Prompt: Local +2
Pairing: Layton and Luke gen
Other: Set pre-canon, speculative.
Excerpt: "My hat!" he said, not bothering to lighten the accent for a stupid foreigner. His heart dropped further when the man just smiled and said, in a perfect English accent, "It's not very gentlemanly to steal, my boy."
It wasn't exactly wrong to take from them. After all, they were just tourists. It was their fault that his dad didn't have a job-- that his job had moved to America. It was their fault for being so clueless and useless in a country where they even spoke the language. They shouldn't look so confused coming right off the docks.
In any case, the four of them rarely took too many wallets, and they generally did their best to drop the ID cards. They were useless to children, after all.
Luke had fast hands and he'd never gotten caught, so when fingers closed around his hand, he started in surprise. He slipped free and began darting through the crowd, but he'd only gotten a few steps when his pursuer caught hold of his hat. He turned indignantly.
"My hat!" he said, not bothering to lighten the accent for a stupid foreigner. His heart dropped further when the man just smiled and said, in a perfect English accent, "It's not very gentlemanly to steal, my boy."
"I'm not your boy," he said, scowling. "Give me my hat."
"Ah, but would you have given me my wallet, had I asked?"
He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. Luke looked away, searching through the crowd. Derrick, Kim, and Short Johntson had already faded away. It hadn't exactly been verbalized, their agreement, but he hadn't expected them to stick around and help him.
"If you answer a puzzle for me, I'll give you your hat back," the man said, running his fingers across the brim of his own impressively-tall hat. "Come over here." He turned, trusting the boy would follow.
For a moment, Luke considered fading away too. But he knew, suddenly, that this was the hat his mother had written his name in, clean black ink, in case he lost it. If the gentleman showed up at Luke's house and told his parents the story, then it would be much worse than solving a puzzle for him.
Sullenly he followed the man out of the crowd and into a nearby alley. Luke was shocked when the man leaned down and started drawing in the dust with his finger. He had enough money to go to America and back, but he would get his pants dirty just to tell a puzzle?
"What were you doing in America, mister?" he asked, watching the man sketch a circle and some little puffy things that might have been clouds.
"Professor," the man said without looking up. "I was at an archaeological dig. My name is Professor Layton. Pleased to meet you--" He met Luke's eyes expectantly.
"Luke," the boy mumbled. The professor finished his drawing and stood, absently wiping the dust onto his black pants.
"All right," he said. "You have a pen, and you have four sheep..."
It only took Luke about fifteen minutes to solve the puzzle, and he felt such relief when he did, looking down at the picture with satisfaction. When the professor handed him his hat back, he jammed it on his head and rose from his crouch, preparing to flee before the man changed his mind.
"I have an office in Reighton Street if you'd like to do more puzzles sometime," the strange professor said, instead, and waved as Luke left.
Then he adjusted his own hat, picked up his bags, and went home.
Fandom: Professor Layton
Length: 586 words
Prompt:
writing_game: Prompt: Local +2Pairing: Layton and Luke gen
Other: Set pre-canon, speculative.
Excerpt: "My hat!" he said, not bothering to lighten the accent for a stupid foreigner. His heart dropped further when the man just smiled and said, in a perfect English accent, "It's not very gentlemanly to steal, my boy."
It wasn't exactly wrong to take from them. After all, they were just tourists. It was their fault that his dad didn't have a job-- that his job had moved to America. It was their fault for being so clueless and useless in a country where they even spoke the language. They shouldn't look so confused coming right off the docks.
In any case, the four of them rarely took too many wallets, and they generally did their best to drop the ID cards. They were useless to children, after all.
Luke had fast hands and he'd never gotten caught, so when fingers closed around his hand, he started in surprise. He slipped free and began darting through the crowd, but he'd only gotten a few steps when his pursuer caught hold of his hat. He turned indignantly.
"My hat!" he said, not bothering to lighten the accent for a stupid foreigner. His heart dropped further when the man just smiled and said, in a perfect English accent, "It's not very gentlemanly to steal, my boy."
"I'm not your boy," he said, scowling. "Give me my hat."
"Ah, but would you have given me my wallet, had I asked?"
He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. Luke looked away, searching through the crowd. Derrick, Kim, and Short Johntson had already faded away. It hadn't exactly been verbalized, their agreement, but he hadn't expected them to stick around and help him.
"If you answer a puzzle for me, I'll give you your hat back," the man said, running his fingers across the brim of his own impressively-tall hat. "Come over here." He turned, trusting the boy would follow.
For a moment, Luke considered fading away too. But he knew, suddenly, that this was the hat his mother had written his name in, clean black ink, in case he lost it. If the gentleman showed up at Luke's house and told his parents the story, then it would be much worse than solving a puzzle for him.
Sullenly he followed the man out of the crowd and into a nearby alley. Luke was shocked when the man leaned down and started drawing in the dust with his finger. He had enough money to go to America and back, but he would get his pants dirty just to tell a puzzle?
"What were you doing in America, mister?" he asked, watching the man sketch a circle and some little puffy things that might have been clouds.
"Professor," the man said without looking up. "I was at an archaeological dig. My name is Professor Layton. Pleased to meet you--" He met Luke's eyes expectantly.
"Luke," the boy mumbled. The professor finished his drawing and stood, absently wiping the dust onto his black pants.
"All right," he said. "You have a pen, and you have four sheep..."
It only took Luke about fifteen minutes to solve the puzzle, and he felt such relief when he did, looking down at the picture with satisfaction. When the professor handed him his hat back, he jammed it on his head and rose from his crouch, preparing to flee before the man changed his mind.
"I have an office in Reighton Street if you'd like to do more puzzles sometime," the strange professor said, instead, and waved as Luke left.
Then he adjusted his own hat, picked up his bags, and went home.