Soldiers [Detective Conan] [Crow series 1/2]

beautiful!

On the 28th of July 2010, terrible monsoon rains coincide with mismanagement of crew resources and a generally toxic workplace environment, leading to the deadliest air accident in Pakistani history. This happens at approximately 9:45 local time, which is 4:45 GMT, 13:45 JST, and forty-five minutes past midnight on the United States East Coast.

This coincides, but does not correlate, with our story.

-x-

28 July, 2010
New York City, N.Y., USA

They haven't forgotten about her birthday by the time Marnier gets back from lunch.

She supposes it could've been worse. Lou had clearly reminded Sangria about how she gets overwhelmed when there's a lot of attention on her, because San is weirdly nice and gentle. But it's better than the alternative of being bombarded by questions (like, "why did you never tell me your birthday?" and "is your real name actually Jenny?" and "is there a tragic backstory to why you don't celebrate your birthday?") so she accepts it.

(The truthful answers to questions no-one asked, in order: "Because it doesn't matter that much to me, but also..." and "...which part of us being part of a secretive criminal syndicate that hides our true identities isn't clicking?" and "Not sure what you mean by tragic, but no, not really.")

Anyway, it means that the three of them end up working together to organise a proper birthday event – an elaborate bar crawl consisting of three venues (one suggested by each). Flowcharts and spreadsheets are involved, every civilian friend-of-a-friend is accounted for, and it's almost fun.

The fact they get any actual work done that afternoon – let alone, finish several projects between the three of them – is a miracle.

Still, hours (and a nap, a shower, trimmed and black-painted nails, and so much black eyeliner and lipstick she feels like a goth twink again) later, Janvier Magritte is leaning out of her Bronx sixth-floor bedroom window overlooking the narrow strip of green that is Muskrat Cove and grumpily lighting her second cigarette with her copy of Seeing Like A State abandoned on the bed.

She knows she'll enjoy the birthday stuff in the moment, and she'll be happy afterwards. But right now, fifteen minutes before the taxi is supposed to pick her up, Jen dreads everything.

The crowds, the socialising, the leaving-her-hair-open, the wearing-a-dress-in-public, the drunken flirting with any given stranger...

Some thirty fucking years old I am. What a wreck. Can't finish Layth's damn book, can't even keep myself together enough to quit smoking...

Some nearby neighbour has been lighting up a forest out there, and the dense fragrance rises into the warm early evening air. Another is trying to still their crying baby. Another pair are screaming what appears to be a marital dispute in Cuban Spanish. Another seems to be watching some kind of international news channel, so loud she can just about hear a calm-serious British accent reporting on the heavy monsoon rains in Pakistan.

Is that BBC World Service? Which Mensa applicant listens to that up here in the Bronx?

Half-distracted, she scrolls through a gaming subreddit on her phone. The Mantendo Games Conference has just finished in Japan, so there should be plenty of news and hot takes.

Maybe StarCraft II will finally stop delaying its full release so she can stop playing in the beta version alone? Maybe there'll be a new release from Suguru Itakura after his years of working in Hollywood? Maybe that strange out-of-place character in last year's unannounced Blood Souls release will finally get her game?