last flowers | rohan/reader

5。magnolia

The next few days sped in and out of [name]'s vision.

After an unexplained blackout— that's what she decided to call them, because somehow time seemed to vanish right in front of her— Rohan kicked her out as nice as he could possibly manage. The detective had mentioned going back to her hotel anyways, but his behavior was completely different from before she'd somehow managed to check out of life for a good hour. Rohan was more flustered than he'd been around her previously, albeit barely noticeable. She had a few psychology classes and a nonfiction book called Notice Those Nonverbal Cues! to thank for that.

Detective [name] had made absolutely no progress on the case. Aside from establishing Reimi as a possible starting point, she was lost and ready to panic, despite being barely a week in. Investigations like this took time she'd been willing to sacrifice, but now that she was here and experiencing the slow goings of Morioh, [name] was ready to call it quits and go back home where she wasn't under a microscope like she was in this little town.

Presenting Reimi Sugimoto as the "patient zero" in the mysterious disappearances of several Morioh residents was impossible to do. The woman realized that before, but now that she sat at one of the slow-running computers in the police department, she was at a completely devastating loss. The detective had to type up a report for the first few days of investigation to send off to her chief in S-City's precinct, and there was nothing she could think to write about that made sense. [name] couldn't send off a formal document using explanations for the disappearances like ghosts and supernatural powers that couldn't be seen by the majority. So she sat in a silent daze, considering potential excuses, or whether or not she should bother writing a report at all.

There was something incredibly compelling about skipping out on faxing off the document. Certainly reporting back with less than the minimum would get her a slap on the wrist, at the very least. Then again, how could they expect a lot from her when there was absolutely no trace of evidence in any of the crime scene reports?

"I'm uh, gonna go for lunch." [name] stood abruptly from the computer chair and turned off the monitor. The only other officer, a man who went by the family name of Kagome, sat at his own desk nodded at her once— it wasn't like he had actually cared, but as a (temporary) superior it was important to acknowledge her presence. It's not like she was inviting him anyways.

The crisp Friday air at 11:42 am was far more refreshing compared to the stagnant stench of guilty sweat that reeked from MPD's holding cells.

"Hmm... If I walk quickly, I'll probably be able to hit St. Gentlemen's just before the lunch rush. Then I could catch the bus at noon back to the hotel and... Ah, no, I'd have to clock out then. And I'd probably get yelled at..." [name] had already started walking towards downtown's beloved sandwich shop, speaking to herself in a low voice. She had tried to sidestep most of the sidewalk's traffic to avoid awkwardly brushing strangers' shoulders, but ended up nudging by the busy walkers despite her efforts.

She could feel an unknown hand reach out and grasp her shoulder. The touch felt reminiscent to the dream she had previously, and sent a frightened tingle up her spine as she turned her head slightly. "Pardon me. You dropped this."

The man was inhumanly beautiful. He wore a stern but neutral expression, blonde bangs framing his forehead that led down to his jaw, incredibly chiseled and firm. He held out her bag at arms length as the busy residents of Morioh continued about their own business. It was clear the handsome man had wanted to keep his distance. [name] respected that.

"Thank you so much, I would've been devastated if I lost this. You're a lifesaver." The suited man dropped the long strap over her hand, and she instinctively went in for a handshake. His handshake was stiff, painfully so, but [name] retracted her fingers as if it'd been nothing. He couldn't help having a tight grip and sharp fingernails. She'd check for bruising later. "You've got a tough hand. Do you do construction work?"