Icee's Garbage One-shots

Polnareff: Lost in Translation

You'd wanted this for so long and now finally, you'd gotten a chance to shine. You'd originally joined the Speedwagon Foundation in hopes of creating a better future, but so far as a young intern, all you have done is file papers and fetch coffee for the higher ups, but not anymore! You were officially on your way to assist someone. You weren't sure who, truth be told you weren't told much aside from that you were currently headed to Singapore of all places. You weren't concerned, you'd spent a good amount of time mentally preparing and felt like you were ready to take on anything; as long as it got you out from behind a desk, you didn't care. You felt excitement bubble in your chest as your plane began to descend, excited to finally prove your worth in the name of The Speedwagon Foundation.

A few hours later you wished you'd never stepped onto the plane. Apparently no matter what country you may be, you were still (Y/n): the intern. You inwardly sulked as you returned to the police station, of all places, to deliver papers to one of the higher up agents. They'd given you the amazingly important task of making copies of some documents, none of which you couldn't read thanks to the different language it was written in. You paused for a moment outside what you assumed was an interrogation room, hearing yelling coming from within, all various accents. You were able to pick out your boss' American accent among them.

"My deepest apologies, Monsieur Polnareff." He said, sounding as though he was walking closer to the door. You straightened up, brushing off your black pencil skirt as you stood by the door, holding onto the papers he'd given you. He opened the door and allowed someone to come through. A large man with odf shaped silver hair stepped out, ignoring your existence as he passed. Two pieces of a broken heart dangled from each ear and he walked.

"It's fine, I'm relieved to be out of that mess." The silver haired man, Polnareff, said, waving a hand dismissively. As he moved to face your boss once more he noticed you, a light dusting of pink crossed his pale face as he stopped mid-wave, looking you up and down.

"Ah, (Y/n)," You turned your attention back to your boss, "Did you get those copies?" Even though your role was small, you did your best to pretend that it was the most important job; anything to help save your pride.

"Yes, sir." You said, handing him the papers. He looked them over for a moment before nodding.

"Excellent, thank you." He turned to address Polnareff once more, "You're free to go, Monsieur Polnareff. Please, give Mister Joestar our regards." Polnareff seemed to have a moment of panic, oddly enough, talking animatedly with his hands and arms.

"I would, b-but, I am afraid that I am but a humble foreigner. I could get lost in this place and never find my way back." You blinked at the man's sudden theatrics, but said nothing. "Perhaps as escort back to the hotel would be in order?" He baited, as if waiting for a specific answer. Your boss looked between Polnareff and the papers in his hand, as if weighing the importance of each one. The Speedwagon Foundation agent's eyes finally landed on you, a smile coming to his lips.

"(Y/n), would you be so kind as to help Monsieur Polnareff to his hotel? I still have to fill out some forms for the police chief, as well as for our records." He explained, the silver haired man next to him clasped his hands in front of his chest, enthusiastically nodding his head.

"Oui, oui, that would be most helpful." Apparently your opinion mattered little as you were quickly ushered out of the building by the buff man. "Ah, (Y/n), was it? What a lovely name. So fitting for a lovely girl." You felt like you couldn't even mentally keep up with yourself at this point. You were in Singapore, helping get some French man out of jail for who even knows what, and now you were "helping" said man get back to his hotel; you were getting rather suspicious though, as he seemed perfectly aware of where he was going so far. "Perhaps we should hold hands to keep from getting lost, no?" Your face turned crimson as he cheekily grabbed your hand, fingers interlaced with yours.