Chapter Text
Harue feels herself start to smile. It isn’t of her own wishes or will — she isn’t trying to smile at him — but something in her face starts to turn on its own and before she knows it, she feels herself smiling. Small, granted, but there nonetheless. Richter tended to have that effect on her her, to be fair.
“Thank you, detective,” She half-hums, half-murmurs under her breath. Loud enough to be heard, but perhaps barely, “Although, I’ve got to wonder what has you out and about at this hour. Another case, perhaps?”
He’s smiling too. All soft and sweet, all genuine and honest like he always is with her. And his eyes, those diamonds in his skull, they’re dazzling against the glaze of the moonlight above just like the river water reflecting it.
“Not another one, no,” He gently shakes his head and all those lovely curls shake with him, “Still yours, ma’am. I told you, seeing all of this to the end is part of the job, so I’m still here for you.”
That’s a feeling she’s still getting used to. Having someone in her corner. Having someone there, for her, for her exclusively. Someone who cares wholeheartedly. She knew Richter was… Unlike other people, if the obsession with Mocking Bird stickers and his fancy attire didn’t speak that enough for him, but this? Is he that committed to his job, truly? (And did this part of the process really fall under a private investigator’s responsibilities? She still has her doubts about that…)
It’s… Embarrassing. Is that the word?
It’s something, surely. She doesn’t know if she’s embarrassed, or flustered, or uncomfortable, or elated, or what. But thinking on it, she doesn’t hate the feeling of his spotlight on her. It isn’t like she can’t stand it, so she doesn’t outright turn him away. She just doesn’t outright embrace it either.
Harue can’t find it in her to meet his gaze again, to look him in those sparkling eyes, so she doesn’t. She keeps her focus casted out at the sea.
“... Well, thank you, again.” At the very least, she wouldn’t forget her manners.
“You’re more than welcome, ma’am,” He starts, and Harue hears the gentle click of his shoe against the bridge’s floor as he takes a single step closer. “Though, if I may…”
“Yes…?” Her brows raise, curiosity reeled in. Her eyes flicker to his face.
He’s still smiling, though chuckling softly this time. “Given how you’re dressed, I… don’t take it this trip out here tonight was planned.”
This time, Harue’s gaze flickers down to her attire — that white, lace, thin nightgown still leaving her freezing in this night’s timid air, and the soft slippers on her feet leaving her ankles and heels exposed still too — and her face suddenly runs hot. She feels it, feels that blush simmer into her cheeks, redness and pinkess coming together to paint her fair complexion in abashment. Her hands reach for the sides of Richter’s jacket and pull it a little more shut, both for warmth and modesty.
“... No, it wasn’t,” She softly speaks. “I just had to… Clear my mind, you could say. Get out of the house for a little while, really.”
“At this hour?” He asks.
“This hour is usually the hardest for me, so yes, detective,” She says. Sighs when she says it, too. She can’t help the way her voice falls flat, tone deflating. It’s a touchy subject after all.
He senses it. Of course he does. He’s in-tune with emotions like that, has been the entire time she’s known him, and he’s a gentleman too. Far more of one than her father or husband. Richter has enough sense to not only admit his faults, but try to remedy them too.
“... My apologies, ma’am,” He speaks softly, “But it’s dangerous to be out alone at this time, and too cold, besides. Let me walk you home.”
“But you’re working,” She protests.
“On your case,” He insists.
She shakes her head. “And you should be at your own home, resting when it’s this late. If it’s too late out for me, it’s too late out for you, too.”
“I’ll go straight home after I drop you off, if it’ll put your mind at more ease.”
Harue won’t ever admit it, but she loves the way his voice so sweetly hums that care into his tone.
“... Fine,” She concedes. “... But only if you at least stay for tea. And a snack, maybe. I don’t think it’d be right of me to send you home on an empty stomach.”
A partial lie. Half true sentiment, half of it just anything to make him stay. To keep this night going a little longer. Even if it’s selfish, she’d rather drink in his pleasant company than shrivel up alone in the cold sheets of her bed, or be yanked right back into another sweat-inducing nightmare.
Richter smiles, and it’s almost a smirk. It’s almost like he knows the true depth behind her words and even if he does, she won’t confess it. Besides, he has too much sense and tact to throw her feelings back in her face anyways, if he does sense her attachment to him yet.
“That’s fine by me, ma’am. But you really don’t have to.”
“And if I want to, detective?” A smile pulls at her lips—a genuine one. Small, yet sincere. He had a habit for making her do that, even if after all this time, she’d been convinced she could never smile again.
“Then… I’d appreciate it, ma’am. Now, let’s get you home.”