The Love Letter!
"So, all that's left now is to wait for his results." Gin drew a cigarette from the case he fished out of one pocket, clamped it between his lips, and lit it with the lighter in his other hand.
Watching this performance, Cointreau irritably cranked open the window on his side of the car, doing his best to dodge the secondhand smoke.
"Relax. It won't take long before we know whether that detective has any ties to the FBI or not," Cointreau replied, his gaze fixed out the window.
"Come to think of it, Kir's likely been taken into custody by the FBI. So what do we do about—" Vodka, remembering that Kir's whereabouts were still unknown, turned the question over to his senior, asking how the boss planned to handle it.
"Ah, that depends on whether she leaked any Organization intel before we get to her. If she did, then..." Gin never finished the sentence, but everyone in the car knew exactly what his unspoken words were.
He took a long drag and added, "That said, I doubt Kir would break that easily. No matter what it takes, we're finding out where she is. Quickly."
The fingerprint business was nothing to worry about for the moment, which meant Vermouth finally had the leisure to think about other things. When she heard that Gin intended to rescue Kir, she raised an eyebrow and glanced his way. "Oh~ Got any leads, then?"
"Leads? Those are a dime a dozen if you bother to look." Gin's eyes slid toward the back seat. "Vermouth, I don't care what your relationship with Mouri Kogoro actually is. But if it turns out that Mouri Kogoro really is connected to that listening device, I expect you to know what to do about it."
It was a final warning, plain and simple.
"Eh. Then I suppose all I can do is hope that fingerprint has nothing to do with the great detective," Vermouth said, her tone unchanged as she shot a sidelong glance at Cointreau, who was leaning against the window beside her, thoroughly enjoying the show.
Organization base, laboratory.
"What's this?" Alhaitham picked up the listening device that had just been tossed onto his desk, then looked up, expressionless, at the man standing before him.
A while back, Alhaitham had learned from Kaeya the truth about Cointreau's identity, and every lingering question he'd held about this person—who had never appeared in the original story—had neatly resolved itself.
Once he'd confirmed just how high Cointreau stood within the Organization, Alhaitham understood that the other man could accomplish far more from the inside than he ever could. Which meant there was no longer any point in him scheming to infiltrate the Organization himself.
From that day forward, Alhaitham had been slacking off with surgical precision—strictly adhering to an eight-hour workday, leaving the laboratory the moment his shift ended, never once working overtime.
Perhaps because his research had produced some genuine results, he currently enjoyed rather broad access privileges in the lab. As long as the research kept moving forward, nobody cared how he managed it.
Which meant that, strictly speaking, Alhaitham was currently on his own time. Even so, when a man barged uninvited into his room and tried to assign him extra work, he hadn't thrown the intruder out bodily—solely out of deference to the fact that this was the Traveler's older brother.
"Oh. A listening device." Cointreau could tell he wasn't exactly a welcome guest, so he didn't ask Alhaitham to get up. Instead, he poured himself a glass of water, took a seat across from him, and settled in with the obvious intention of a nice, long chat.
"I know that." Alhaitham paid the man's little performance no mind whatsoever. He set the device aside with a careless flick and picked up the book he'd only just put down.
"My question is—why are you giving this to me?" He asked it without looking up, eyes fixed attentively on the page.
Cointreau gave him a brief rundown of the favor he needed.
"Take a look at that device and check for fingerprints. If you find any, swap them for someone's from the FBI. Any of them will do."
"Am I permitted to decline?" Alhaitham finally closed the book, leaned back in his chair, and regarded Cointreau with a gaze that was impossible to read.
"I'm afraid not." Cointreau took a sip of water and pressed on. "I've already cleared it with Gin. Besides, it won't take much of your time, and you'll be able to milk Vermouth for extra intel while you're at it. A good deal all around, no?"
"And why aren't you doing it yourself?"
"Ah, well, it's just beyond my skill set. The capable should shoulder more, you know how it is." Cointreau set down his teacup, propped his chin in both hands, and flashed Alhaitham a sunny smile.
"The Traveler received a love letter today." Alhaitham delivered the line in a voice utterly devoid of emotion, staring into a pair of eyes that felt strangely familiar.
!!!
Cointreau's head snapped up. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "What did you say?!"
"Assuming your ears and memory are both functioning, then you heard me perfectly."
Alhaitham didn't look away, watching with satisfaction as the color drained from Cointreau's face, the corner of his own mouth curving faintly upward.
He'd known exactly how the Traveler's brother would fall apart upon hearing this news. In fact, when Kaeya had first told him this particular piece of gossip, he'd dismissed it as beneath his attention.
But when some bastard casually dumps extra work on your desk, well—enjoy the bad mood. You earned it.
Alhaitham leisurely picked up the coffee at his elbow and took a sip.
"Hold on—this is real?" Cointreau surged to his feet, palms slamming flat on the desk, eyes locked on Alhaitham as if by sheer will he could force the man to admit it was a joke.
"Perfectly real. I never lie."
That answer shattered the last fragile thread of hope in Cointreau's heart.
"Then what was her reaction? Did she accept?"
Cointreau's head dropped, hair falling forward across his eyes and casting them in shadow. When he finally forced out the question, his voice was taut as a wire.
He had waited so long, searched so hard, to find his little sister again. And she was still so young—she might not even be a rounding error against his own centuries. She was a naive little girl who didn't know a thing about the world, far, far too young for romance.
Hah. But he would very much like to know which shameless excuse for a man had dared to seduce his innocent, wide-eyed sister.
"No idea," said Alhaitham.
"No idea?!" Cointreau stared at him in open disbelief. "How can you not know?! Don't you have some way of contacting Lumine?"
"I have means of contact. So what?" Alhaitham arched an eyebrow. "I don't care about the outcome, so why would I go out of my way to ask?"
"Well I care, damn it!" Cointreau protested at full volume, then immediately ordered Alhaitham to contact whoever it was he contacted and find out Lumine's answer as fast as humanly possible.
"Refused. I happen to be busy right now—oh, with the task you just assigned me, as it happens. No time for your errands." Watching Cointreau lose every last shred of that earlier composure, Alhaitham finally, contentedly, picked up the listening device he'd been ignoring, rose from his chair, and walked around the man glaring holes into him—out of the room, and back to what was, technically, still his break.