Hey guys! Sorry I took SO long to update! Hopefully this will make up for it ;)

Also, I recently made a tumblr so you could ask me questions or send me requests and such! I added the link to it to my profile page so...yeah! Check that out B)

As always, have fun reading!

It took several hours before Sycamore finally woke up from his deep slumber. He was sprawled out on top his bed and his room was a complete mess. "What happened last night?" He thought when he saw his shirt half-way unbuttoned. After a minute or two, he slowly got up from the warm comfort bed to the cold, hard floor. As soon as he did so, a sharp pain shot through his head; even worse than the days before. "I-Is this a hangover?! Great, just what I needed." He started walking toward the door but stopped when he heard an unfamiliar voice coming from downstairs. "Eh? Does Layton have company?" He peeked out the door and saw the kitchen light on. "I'm glad he asked me beforehand." He closed the door back and sighed, "Now I have to put on clothes. Swell. Just swell."

The guests, however, had invited themselves in.

"Eh? You sure this is the place? Looks too … normal to me," Chelmey slammed the door to his police car and headed for the entrance with his hands in his pockets.

"Y-Yes sir! Quite s-sure sir!" Barton closed his door and quickly made way toward Chelmey. "S-Spent all night t-tracking it! This is definitely the place!" He had trouble pulling out his notebook since he was shivering so much. "Mr. Layton has to be here sir! No question about it!" He read the address aloud and hoped for at least some approval.

"Hmm, well only one way finding it out, eh?" He pulled one hand out of his pocket and violently banged on the door. "Oy, Layton? You in there? I need to have a word with you," He yelled inside.

Layton was in the living room reading the London Times and nearly jumped when he heard Chelmey. "Is that who I think it is? Now, what is he doing here?" He sat the newspaper down and slowly made way toward the entrance.

"What's taking this man so long?" He looked down at his watch. "I don't have all day to stand out here and freeze to death!"

Layton unlocked the door and barely opened it, "Yes, may I help—?"

Before he could finish, Chelmey pushed Layton out the way and barged his way into the hall with Barton following right behind him, "About time I'd say," Chelmey spat back, "About froze to death," He was, obviously, not a patient man.

"Uh, er… yes," Layton shut the door behind him and then turned back around, "May I ask why you are here?" He asked while fixing his hat.

"Why am I here? The case, of course! The robbery that happened this past week…?"

"Yes, Bloom spoke to me about it earlier." Layton walked past him and went into the kitchen.

"So you're somewhat familiar, I taking?" He said, following closely behind.

"That would be pushing it," He got the kettle sitting on the counter and put it under the sink. "I'm afraid I only know the bare details." He turned the sink's knob and filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. "I reviewed it last night and put some thought to it."

"Not putting full effort, eh? Looks like I may be the one solving this one! Not like I do every time, that is." After living off of Layton's glory for quite some time, Chelmey had grown himself a large ego.

"Why? Is something I need to know?" He said without turning around.

"Well, obviously. I wouldn't have come here otherwise."

The kettle whistled and Layton took it off the stove and poured the water into a teapot, "Well, what is it then? A new lead, perhaps?" He put on the lid to the teapot and waited for it to cool down.

"Hmm," He scratched his chin, "I don't want to say so yet but… Yes, I believe so. It's the best and only lead we've got."

After a few moments he walked over to the table and sat down. "Oh? Is that so? Did Bloom find the lead?" He crossed his legs and leaned back.

"Bloom? Ha, as if that man could solve anything! The criminal would be right beside him and he wouldn't even notice! It was me of course!"

"You sound rather confident of yourself… Are you sure—" He lifted his head and saw Sycamore standing outside the door clutching his head. "Ah, good morning Desmond. Feeling alright?"

"Huh…? Oh… uh not exactly," He walked slowly to Layton, bent down half way, and whispered in his ear, "Who are these people?"

"Ah, this is Chelmey and his partner Barton. They're here discussing a case Scotland Yard is having a hard time with. Come, have a seat," He pulled out the chair next to him and smiled. "Now then, what's wrong?" He whispered.

"Oh, just another migraine. I'm kind of getting used to it by now."

"Migraine, eh? Well lucky for you, I got just the remedy for it," He got up and checked to see if the teapot had cooled down. "Tea anyone?"

"We have no time," Barton was just about to agree when Chelmey answered for him, "Ahem, now then, the case?"

"Yes, of course," Layton spooned out some loose tea and mixed it in. "What's the lead?" He said as he was stirring.

"I was spending all last night researching past criminals that could, possibly, have something to do with the robbery."

"Yes, go on," He added a small teaspoon of honey to Sycamore's cup and handed it to him, "Should make you feel better."

"Thank you, Hershel," he took a sip, "Ah, you're always right, aren't you?"

He gave a small chuckle and sat down next to him and took started to drink out of his.

"Anyways, one criminal caught my attention. He goes by… uh… what was it?" He looked down at Barton and he immediately jumped.

He flipped through his notebook and hurried to find the name. It was a huge relief to find the page, "Ah! Here it is sir!" He pointed to the name in bold, red writing.

"Hmm, that's him alright. The man calls himself Jean Descole," Chelmey said while scratching his chin.

Layton raised one eyebrow but didn't look up from his tea, "That so?" He swirled the cup in his hand.

Sycamore, on the other hand, had nearly chocked on his tea and was coughing violently. "D-Descole?! Y-You sure about this?!" He said after the coughing had subsided.

"Why? Do you know the man?" The question surprisingly came from Layton.

"N-No, of course not! I just heard the name before, t-that's all."

"Good. I would stay away from that madman at all cost. Idiot ruins Scotland Yard every case he's on. Leaves no evidence, suspects, or motives. We're lucky to even have a name. Ha, but we've got him wrapped around our fingers this time! This time he was careless and left his tracks. Desperate? Maybe. Idiot that's for sure." Chelmey said, repeating himself. "Criminals like him disgust me."

"B-But what has he done that is so terrible?"

"What has he done? Ha! Robbing one of London's finest banks, I'd say!"

"Now, now… let's not get too ahead of ourselves here. Where is your evidence?" Layton finished his tea and put it on the table.

"Evidence? Well, at this point, there is nothing besides eye-witness interviews; he took out the security camera beforehand. But every interview we conducted had them saying the same thing: a man with a strange outfit and sword came in, robbed, and then left. It matches perfectly to his other crimes! Sword, strange outfit, robbery… that's all there is to it."

"I somehow doubt that that's it. I've reviewed Descole several times before in my free time and—"

"Eh? Y-You have?" Sycamore said, interrupting.

"Yes, and he does much more than simple robberies in his free time. I wouldn't necessary call him… what did you say again?"

"An idiot."

"Yes, I wouldn't put it to that extent. As much as I don't like it, I must admit he's quite brilliant. Leaving his tracks behind? I don't believe anything of the sort."

"As much as you want to believe that, you can't possibly deny the similarities between his past crimes and this one."

He took a deep breath before replying, "I suppose I can't. But still, it's not enough to make a strong case. Anyone can have a strange outfit with a sword and rob a bank, I'm afraid."

"Eh?!" Chelmey didn't take it lightly when someone criticized his logic. "I didn't come here to get patronized!"

"Why did you come here, then? For my approval? I thought you, being a detective, wouldn't need my— or anyone else's for that matter—approval," Layton gave a sly smile.

'If he knew about Descole why didn't he find out sooner?' He started to say something but stopped himself, "Look, I don't you or anyone's approval! Do you or do not agree that this is a strong lead?"

"It is a lead. But not a strong one."

"Well then, that's all," He made his way toward the exit, "You're welcome to review further at Scotland Yard. There's going to be a meeting tomorrow around four. Not like they need you, though. I can handle every case they can throw at me…this just proves it."

"I'll seek to it."

Sycamore sat motionless and stared at his cup, "Ah…? Layton reviewed me? What is he doing that for? Well, I suppose I am quite … popular at Scotland Yard. Still, it makes me uneasy knowing that Layton knows about…the real me, I suppose I'll call it. But he couldn't possibly suspect…? No, he couldn't. I would be the last person he would ever—"

"Did you not enjoy the tea? Was there something wrong with it?" He took some Sycamore's hair and parted it behind his ears, "Did it at least ease some the pain?"

Sycamore was pulled out of his train of thought, "Oh uh…It was great, Hershel, thank you. Almost made me forget about my migraine. In fact, I think it may have stopped!" He took the cup off the table and started to drink the remaining tea. "Ah, I just need to relax. They've never solved my cases before. What makes this time any different? Yes, everything is going to be alright." He placed the cup on the table and smiled at Layton.

"Has it now? That's always good to hear…" He thought for a second before continuing, "If you're feeling better… Would you want to go out for a while? Only you're up to it, of course."

"Go out? You mean outside?"

"Ha, well that's what it means, yes," He chuckled, "How about around London? I always wanted to take you out to see the sites. And, afterwards, we can go by the restaurant and pick up your car, yes?"

"Hmm," He thought for a moment, "I see nothing wrong if it's just for short time. Nothing better to do, eh?"

"Great," He smiled back, "Make sure to dress in layers, alright?"

Sycamore gave a quick sneeze and then started to shiver, "Why is it s-so c-cold?" He was walking beside Layton on a busy London street. It was as if everyone had the same idea to walk the streets that day. Several snowflakes of different shapes and sizes were falling from the sky and slowly making their landing. At some points, it was nearly impossible to see through.

"Pardon me… Excuse me… Yes, my apologies," Layton was constantly apologizing as people kept bumped into him. "Ah, what was it, my dear? I couldn't quite understand you." He said as there was a small break in the crowd.

"I-I s-said: W-Why is it so damn cold?" He began to rub his arms hoping that would make a difference.

"Hmm, I suppose it has to do with it being winter after all," He smiled back at Sycamore. He seemed to be perfectly comfortable despite the bitterness of the weather.

"Well, I f-for one wish this c-cursed winter was over," His glasses began to fog up; blinding him even more so, "Who's idea was this, anyway?" He took them off and began to clean them with his wool jacket.

"Here, allow me," Layton stopped him and gently took his glasses from his hand and began to clean them himself. After he was done, he slowly placed them back on Sycamore's face, "Ah… Is that better?"

The first thing he saw was Layton smiling and slowly turning his head in the process. "Uh…err…yes. Thank you. But I could have done it myself, you know."

"But you can't even see what you're doing, love," Just then a breeze came by them and Sycamore began shivering again. "Ah, let's get you out of this weather, shall we?" He pulled his hand and brought him into the closest shop. Inside, there was a much warmer atmosphere and a small bell chimed when they walked in.

"Ah, that's much better!" Sycamore looked around and saw that they were in a small boutique full of all the winter essentials. "What a quaint little shop, wouldn't you say Layton?"

"Yes, quite so." He smiled and felt the brim of his hat.

"Ah!" He clapped his hands together. "That gives me an idea!"

"Oh?" He chuckled, "And what could that be?" Sycamore closed his eyes and smiled as he leaned toward Layton.

"I could," He began to fix Layton's jacket, "give you a much needed makeover! How's that sound?"

"Are you implying that I need one?" He gave a small laugh.

"No, no course not! It's just that I would love to see you in different outfits!" He leaned in and whispered, "No need to be rude but… You wear the same thing almost every day, dear."

He sighed and then looked down at his clothes. It was apparent that he needed some sort of upgrade. The issue was that he just couldn't afford to buy any new outfits. "My, you're not going to make look like you, are you? You have some … unique tastes to say the least."

"Ah?! And what's that supposed to mean?" He impishly pushed him back.

"I meant nothing by it! In all honestly, if you wouldn't mind…"

"Say no more, Hershel!" He pulled his arms and dragged him across the store. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be a new man!"

Just after a few minutes, Sycamore had already piled dozens of clothes and dumped the in Layton's hands. At that moment, Layton felt something strange inside his chest. The feeling of being noticed, I suppose. Or was it something more…?

As the clothes continue to pile, he blushed and felt childish. "If you wouldn't mind? What was I thinking? That's no way to talk to him… Oh, I'm no good at this… And he's doing all this for me…" He buried his head in the pile of clothes.

Sycamore put another sweater on top of the ever-growing mountain. At this point, he was only able to see part of Layton's top hat. He parted some of the clothes and looked inside, "Just what are you up to in there?" He rubbed his nose against Layton's and laughed quietly.

Surprised by this, Layton immediately jumped back and nervously laughed. "Oh…uh this is getting rather heavy!"

"Don't you change the subject on me!" He leaned in closer. "What were you doing hiding in there? Are you embarrassed of me?"

"No, of course not! Uh…er I think this is plenty, Desmond. Let's go, shall we?" He turned around and made way toward the register.

"Un tel homme impatient! Such an impatient man!" He muttered under his breath and placed his hands on his hips.

He turned back around and winked, "I'm not impatient…"

Sycamore was some-what surprised that he knew French. He met up with Layton at the register and whispered in his ear, "You're full of mysteries, aren't you?"

"Alors êtes-vous, ma chère. So are you, my dear." He replied.

When the total costs showed up at the register sign, Layton had gasped and covered his mouth. In total, it was around 900 pounds. "O-Oh dear, t-that much?" He slowly pulled out his wallet and looked inside. Who was he kidding? He couldn't pay for a single item on the receipt let alone the total.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sycamore bumped him and pulled out his wallet out of his pocket. In it, unlike Layton's, was jam-packed with money. He paid full, in cash the exact amount. "Now then," he said while walking out, "I expect to see you wearing these, alright?" He smiled and nudged him, "I picked out only what would look best on you. Which is almost everything… but black of course. Oh, black wouldn't look good on you, no—"

He tugged Sycamore jacket down, "Why do you carry that much on you?" He whispered as he was walking down the street, "H-How rich are you exactly?"

"That shouldn't matter should it?" He pulled out a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

"No, but isn't that dangerous? Didn't you just get mugged earlier? D-Don't carry that much on you, Desmond…"

"Right…mugged," Sycamore sucked the cigarette as smoke filled his throat, "Sorry." He blew out the smoke out and looked down at his watch. "Now what?"

"Ah, is that who I think it is?" Brenda raised her hand and looked ahead.

"Well, if isn't Hershel! What's he doing out in this weather?" Clark laughed.

"Who's he walking with? I don't recognize him…"

"I do believe that's Professor Sycamore," Clark waved them down.

Layton and Desmond had walked for several hours on end. It was nearing twilight when they met up Clark and his family. "Ah, strange meeting you two here," Layton smiled and laughed.

"I could say the same!" Clark looked back at Brenda, "Brenda, dear, have you seen Luke?"

"Luke? Oh, er… good question!" She frantically began to search the area, "Oh, there he is!" She gave a huge sigh of relief when she saw him in the corner, "I'll be right back."

Luke was about half-a-block away petting and talking to a small, stray dog, "Yes Fluffy, I do believe he's right for you! No, no don't be afraid of what he'll say! The worst he can say is no, right? I think-"

"Luke Triton!" She yelled down and put her hands on her hips.

"Oh...er yes Mom?" Panic struck his face as he started to feel his face warm.

She laughed and put her hands down, "While you're over here giving dogs dating advice, look who we met up with!"

He turned his head and looked past his mother, "Ah! It's the Professor!" He fixed his bag and hat, "See you around, alright?" The dog barked back as Luke ran over to the professor.

"Ah, hello Luke. How is your day going?" Layton said after Luke caught up.

"Great, Professor! In fact, I've just solved the puzzle you gave me yesterday!" He smiled proudly and began to search his bag for the puzzle.

"Is that so?" He chuckled, "What's the answer, then?"

"The answer was—" He got the puzzle out and looked up. "W-Who is this?" Luke saw a strange man holding onto Layton's hand. "Who do you think you are holding him like that?"

Everyone in the group started laughing, "Now Luke… That's no way to act like a gentleman now is it?"

"Ah!" He embarrassingly started to fiddle with his bag's strap, "S-Sorry, Professor…"

"No harm done Luke," He smiled at Sycamore and nudged him.

"Oh, yes. I'm Professor Sycamore," He held out his hand but Luke just turned away. "I'm sure he's told you about me. After all, we've been dating for quite some time…"

"Dating?! You're dating the Professor?!"

"Er…yes Luke," Layton pulled down his hat below his eyes, "Haven't we discussed this beforehand?"

"I didn't think you were serious! Why are you two dating? How long has it been? Are you two-"

"Alright, Luke. I think that's enough questions for now," Clark put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "A gentleman must never intrigue on a man's personal life. Isn't that right, Hershel?"

"Yes, that's quite so."

"And who are you, young man?" Sycamore smiled and squeezed Layton's hand. "You haven't introduced yourself to me yet. Luke is it?"

"Hmph!" He turned around and crossed his arms. "My name is Luke Triton! I'm the Professor's," He pointed his index finger at Sycamore, "number one assistant!"

"Self-proclaimed assistant, that is," Brenda snickered.

"Oh? Is that so?" Sycamore leaned up against Layton and rested his head on his shoulder, "I happen to be Hershel's number one in everything… Isn't that right, dear?" Layton coughed and looked toward the ground.

"Number one?! In everything?! T-That isn't true! I-Is it Professor?!"

"Now Luke, I never said that. He was just-"

"Well, you didn't say I was your assistant either!"

"Ouch," Sycamore whispered in Layton's ear.

"N-Now then! It's getting pretty late out, Luke! You have school tomorrow, remember?" Brenda nervously laughed and pulled his hand away, "Let's not make a scene, alright?"

"But…! But…!"

"Come on, Luke. You've given Hershel a big enough headache as it is," Clark fixed his tie and smiled, "Sorry about that Professor!"

"Oh, it was nothing. Luke?"

"Yes Professor?"

"I expect to see that puzzle completed tomorrow, okay?"

"Ah! Yes Professor!" He saluted before taking his leave.

"Now what was that all about, eh?! That bumpkin thinks he's your number one?! Ha, don't make me laugh!" Layton remained silent as he walked. "Eh? What, is he more important than me? That incompetent fool?!"

"He's nothing of the sort, Desmond," He smiled and squeezed his hand, "Try not to get too jealous, alright?"

"Jealous? Of him? You got to me kidding me!"

"Well, I'm just glad you two got off to a nice start."

Layton stopped in the street and Sycamore got pulled back, "Eh? What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the bus, of course."

Sycamore looked up and saw he was standing below a small, red bus station. "Oh, I suppose it's getting late, huh?"

"Yes, and we both have work tomorrow correct?"

Sycamore groaned, "Really? I have to go back?"

"Well, you seem fine to me... And I'm sure your students miss your lessons."

"Oh, I'm sure," He said sarcastically.

Just then, the bus pulled up and screeched to a stop. Inside, the bus was almost packed full to capacity. The top, however, was completely empty due to obvious reasons. Layton found the last, empty seats and sat down while Sycamore was paying.

Sycamore fell on the chair and threw the bags on the ground, "Oh, I'm so tired… My feet are killing me!"

"Hmm, well I suppose it has something to do with those high-heels you're wearing…"

"High-heels? I beg to differ!" He lifted his leg up and rested it on his knees. "So what if they have a little heel? I don't consider them to be-"

"Well, what are they then?" He chuckled and took note of the bright, red shoes, "If not high-heels…?"

"Hmph! They are not!" He furiously thumped his leg back down on the ground. Upon impact, it made a loud clank and, embarrassingly, the whole bus grew silent. Soon, his entire face grew as red as his shoes.

Layton started laughing and covered his mouth, "Care to explain that?"

After riding for about half-an-hour, the sky was slowly turning pitch black; the only sign of light came when they speed by a streetlight. Layton leaned his elbow on the window and gave a long sigh. He rubbed the frosty window with his jacket when it had fogged up. In the reflection, he saw Sycamore staring at the floor with his head cupped in his hands almost sad like. "N-Now's my chance… A g-gentleman must face his fears…" He turned around and looked at Sycamore in his eyes, "D-Desmond, dear?"

"Hmm?" He barely lifted his head and yawned, "Yes, Hershel?"

He reached over and gently felt the scarred side of Sycamore's face. "Desmond… I—" He sighed and took a second to breathe. "You –" he started to come in closer. "You're my missing puzzle piece, Desmond…I…" Layton had memorized these exact lines in his head for the past few weeks. He cupped the other side of Sycamore's face. "I couldn't imagine my life without you…" He slowly began to turn his head as he came even closer.

Sycamore's heart began to beat right out chest. He closed his eyes and started to come in closer as well. They were not even an inch apart when they both stopped and waited for someone to take the next move. Sycamore's mouth was barely open and Layton seemed like he was holding his breath.

After a second or so, Layton barely opened his right eye and saw Sycamore holding onto his knees; awaiting the long-awaited bliss. He closed his eye back and began to slowly pull him closer until their lips met.

Sycamore brought up his hands and placed them around Layton's head. He laughed and brought his head down just a touch.

Layton lifted his head back in exact position and continued to kiss his soft lips as gently as he possibly could. He, too, gave a small laugh.

"Ah?! What am I doing?!" Sycamore just came into realization of what he was doing and abruptly jumped back.

"Hmm?" Surprised by Sycamore, Layton rubbed the top his hand back and forth, "Is something the matter, love?"

"Er, no! No, no! There's nothing wrong! Nothing at all! Ha, why would there be anything wrong?" He nervously laughed and looked around for some sort of distraction. To Sycamore's advantage, the bus came to a stop at the station near the restaurant in which his car was located. "O-Oh! L-Looks like it's time for me to leave, h-huh?" Before Layton could interject, Sycamore got up from his seat.

"Ah! Wait just a moment!" He grabbed Sycamore's sleeve and got up, "Where do you think you're going?" He quietly laughed.

"Huh…? But this is my stop…" To his surprise, Layton gave another quick kiss and Sycamore's eyes immediately lit up.

Layton had to get on his toes to reach Sycamore's face. He slowly removed himself and gazed at him, "Ah what's this?" He reached behind his ear and pulled out a bright red rose. "Now what's this doing back there?" He tucked it in Sycamore's jacket and whispered, "That was for today…" He looked down at all the shopping bags, "Thank you…"

Sycamore stood in shock.

After driving himself home, Sycamore walked in small circles around the door. He jumped when he finally heard a knock at the door. "Ah! There you are! Get in, quick!" He yanked Raymond's arm inside and then locked the door behind him. He peeked outside the curtain to see if anyone was listening.

"May I ask why you are so concerned, Master? Phoning me at such late hours is something you've never done before."

"First off, don't call me that anymore. You're on retirement remember?" He closed the curtain and then turned around. "And… to say the least … something terrible has happened."

"Aye? Is that so?"

"Oh… I wish it wasn't so…" He moaned and strung his fingers through his hair.

"Is it another crime you've committed? Didnae you say…?"

"No, no, no! It has nothing to do with - well some of it does, I suppose. But that's beside the point…! A-And keep your voice down!" He hissed.

"What's so terrible then?"

He remained silent for a few more moments before starting, "Layton. Hershel Layton. That's what's terrible."

"Ah, Mr. Layton, eh? If I remember correctly you two had an affair…?" Sycamore remained silent after the question. "Or is it still on going?"

"We are still seeing each other, yes. In fact, we went out for a while today…" He sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this…"

"In this weather? Such strange activities you young folks do…"

"Yes… and er…" He scratched his head thinking for the right words, "At the end, we took the bus back to the restaurant to pick up my car from last weekend… and… and… He kissed me! Right before the stop! H-He kissed me! Not once, but twice! Oh god…why?! It wasn't on the cheek either! O-On the mouth, Raymond! Do you understand this?!"

"Oh, of course I understand," He chuckled, "I'm afraid this day would never come…" He gave a small smile as he walked across the room.

"Ah?! W-What do you mean by that?!" His eyes followed his movement.

"Pardon me for saying this, Master, but it seems you've fallen in love."

"L-Love?!" Sycamore jumped back and covered his mouth.

"All the evidence leads me to believe so, yes. You and Mr. Layton both obviously have feelings for each other it seems."

"H-He does…? Bah! It's nothing of the sort!" He quickly spun toward the window and crossed his arms. "Love? He can't be serious! I can't possibly fall in love, can I?" His mind began to race about all the events that happened earlier that day and in the past few weeks. How much Layton would worry about him… But no, he worries about everyone, doesn't he? But there was something different about how he felt about Sycamore. Wasn't there?

He started to feel his face feel warm and hugged himself, "Y-You don't really think that Layton…?"

"Why else would he kiss you?"

"Oh no… T-This can't happen!" Panic struck his face and he nervously started to fix his hair again.

"Many people fall in love, Master," He walked toward him and stood beside him. "Why so troubled?"

"Why?!" He quickly turned. "He's my enemy, Raymond!"

"Enemy? And why is this?"

"Dear god, can't you keep up?!" He gave a long sigh before continuing, "Layton does work at Scotland Yard and, to matters worse, he solves nearly every case he's on!"

"And…?"

"And he's working on my case!" Raymond raised an eyebrow, "The one you know… the robbery…this past week…?" He whispered and looked around to make sure no one else could hear.

"He's working your robbery, eh? I suppose that does cause some sort of concern…"

"Yes, of course it does! I can't be with him! What would happen if he found out who I really am? I can't fall head over heels over some man working against me! Surely you understand this!"

"Of course I understand the situation but… This isn't necessarily a death sentence you're imagining it is."

"What?! What are saying? Speak sense!" His Descole side was starting to show as he was growing more and more impatient.

"If I may suggest…?"

"Yes, go on. I'm quite literally open to anything at this moment." He flipped his hair back and fixed his glasses.

"All of this could be an advantage to you, Master."

"What…? What do you mean advantage?"

"Mr. Layton works at Scotland Yard, yes? Then isn't this a perfect opportunity to obtain information? I only assume that he wouldn't suspect you, his lover, to be the cause of the crime," Sycamore remained silent but it was obvious he was thinking. "This way, you'd never get caught now, or in your future crimes."

"There are no more future crimes. I've stopped completely and don't plan to comment any more," He said in a stern tone.

"Even so…" Raymond, obviously, did not believe that statement, "What about now? You said that Layton solves every case he's on. And he's on your robbery?"

"That is … correct."

"It appears that there is no other choice; do you wish to be caught?"

"No, of course not," He muttered.

"Then it has to done…" He glanced up at the window and saw the dark, black sky, "I must be on my way now," He bowed and said his goodbyes, "Good day, Master."

"Good day…" He sighed and turned his head toward the ground.

"Easier said than done," He thought long and hard the minutes after Raymond left. What was he to do? What was he to say? "I-I don't want to do this," He said aloud. He took the rose out of his pocket and breathed in the aurora, "I never want to hurt you Hershel. You—you're the only one who has ever really cared about me, I get that now. Still, how could you fall in love with me? How could anyone even care about me?" He pulled a single petal out of the rose and tossed it aside, "I-I betray him…" He pulled another, "I confess," pulled another, "I betray him…"

After a short while, there were about half-a-dozen red petals lying at Sycamore's feet. It was down to one, single petal. He gently tugged it off and squeezed it in his palm, "I betray him…" he said bluntly. He opened his palm and let the petal fall to the floor along with the others.

-END OF CHAPTER!-