Mr. Jung Private Eye

The Investigator and his Doctor Assistant

A moment later and you found yourself back in Mr. Jung's car, picking off the last few fries from the take-out bag as Jung held the last chunk of his burger. He licked the ketchup off his fingers as the car cruised into a stoplight.

"You know I can't say I took you for the greasy take-out kind of person," you smirked, handing him a napkin after he tossed his final morsel into his mouth. He took it graciously and dabbed around his mouth.

"Nor I, you," He chuckled, pointing at a place on your chin which you discovered was covered in salt. Flushing, you hastily brushed it off.

"Fries are my weakness," you admitted, embarrassed. Jung's gaze crinkled in endeared amusement but you were more focused on your reflection. After surmising that you had gotten every last crumb from your skin you turned your attention back to him. Surprisingly, you found his focus was already on you.

"Where are we heading?" You inquired, quickly looking away from his glittering gaze.

"You'll see,"

In a few minutes, you pulled up into a parking lot right in front of a small, homey brick building with colorful checkered columns. A large sign reading Galactic Gill's Diner flashed in blue and red.

"A diner?"

"Yes," he slipped his hands into his pockets. "That is what the sign says,"

"But we just ate?" You slowly followed Mr. Jung out of his car as he strolled towards the diner.

"Could never go wrong with a good milkshake," he shrugged.

"You've just had one," you recalled, thinking of the huge chocolate milkshake he had gulped down not ten minutes ago.

"I'm a grown man, my dear," he turned towards you and gave you a slow wink, "I could have two," You blinked, following him blindly inside.

"Table for two?" asked the host as you entered. You only stared, still trying to process the image of Jung Hoseok winking at you. He was dashing and yet ridiculous all at once.

"Please," Mr. Jung bowed, causing the host to flush. The boy showed you to your table with pink cheeks, glancing over the investigator with wide, admiring eyes.

"By the way, when are you going to your appointment?" you slid into the booth, watching pityingly as the host fumbled with your menus. Jung was clueless, or at least he appeared to be.

"Hmm?" Mr. Jung took up the offered menu and glanced over it.

"You said you had an appointment this evening?" you reminded him.

"Ah yes. That was just an excuse to get out of there," he flipped to the side of the menu that was dripping with achingly sweet shakes and desserts.

"Why? Don't we still have to question the staff and look at the crime scene?" you crossed your arms on the table, ignoring your menu that sat beneath them.

"Of course. But individuals of that status always become increasingly stiffer the longer you're there. We'll take another crack at it tomorrow," he explained while studiously reading the ingredients of a, particularly chocolatey, dessert.

"But if we let them be, whoever stole it could be getting their story together, hiding the evidence. Or they could be discussing the next part of their plan," you insisted.

"You read too much Agatha Christie, my dear," he chuckled. You ignored the little fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

"Well, you read too much Sherlock Holmes," you countered. At that, he glanced up at you, lips quirking.