Chapter Text
There seemed to be a problem in the Bus, but Dante couldn't quite pinpoint what…
During morning assembly, two certain Sinners seem to have an uneasy tension with one another - and no, it's not Heathcliff and Ishmael, surprisingly. Instead, it was two, very unlikely people who seemed to be awfully quiet these past few days. Outis, the third most aware person in the crew, had briefed Dante regarding this matter a day ago already.
“Executive Manager," the militant stood firmly next to the Executive Manager. She was just about to give them a salute before Dante's hand promptly held onto her arm. “Have you noticed something… strange, too?”
Dante nodded in response, their clock hands starting to turn. <Yes, actually. We seemingly always run out of grated cheese every Tuesday…>
Outis sighed exasperatedly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “No— Ugh… I'm aware of that, but there's another matter at hand. I feel that it's worth talking about with you, Executive Manager.”
<Oh…> Dante's ticking slowed down a considerable amount before resuming its regular pace. <What's up, then?>
Then, the militant turned to look at the row of seats lined inside the bus. She pointed at two Sinners, namely; “Faust and Yi Sang. Their overall performance lately has been on an all-time low with their combat effectiveness dropping by 30% and 52% respectively."
Dante's ticking quickened. <H-How do you know all of this!? And I barely even noticed… I thought they were just tired from all the work we normally do.>
“Tired? Two of our most punctual and capable Sinners? That simply cannot be, Executive Manager. There's something afoot!” Outis barked as she struck her open palm with her fist, making a head or two turn towards her direction.
<I… I see…> Dante tick-tocked, scratching their nonexistent chin. <What do you suppose was the cause of this, then?>
“I– I have no idea either, Executive Manager.”
Returning from her trip to get hotteok from a nearby shop, Rodion began to saunter back to her seat, carrying a plastic bag filled with the cinnamon-filled treats. She bought just enough for the whole bus crew, but knowing Rodion, she probably bought more for herself than anyone else.
She began munching on the warm pancakes while handing out one to each Sinner on board, including everyone's favorite bus driver, of course! And their guide. Of course.
It was then when she reached the back of the bus that Rodion noticed the ‘strange’ problem that was mentioned by Outis. She heard it in passing but paid no mind to it, but it was only now that she actually caught up on it.
The woman gave the slumbering genius a quick glance, looking over her features and posture. To the untrained eye, it would seem like nothing; Faust is leaning against Mephistopheles, quietly sleeping. It's normal people stuff, right?
Except Faust never sleeps in the cabin. She always sleeps in her chambers and sleeps for only three hours. To see her sleeping in her seat in such an uncomfortable position could only suggest one thing…
So, Rodion approached the second most sensible person in the Bus; Ishmael!
“Ishy!~” Rodion chirped, putting her bag of warm hotteok on the sailor's lap. “Here, some hotteok!”
Ishmael turned to look at the bag placed on her, then towards the gambler. "Oh? Thanks… I haven't had hotteok before." As she reached for a piece, a small grin flashed across her face. Taking a bite out of the hotteok, she glanced up at the taller woman, who was giving her a look that Ishmael knew all too well what it meant. “... Quit looking at me like that."
Rodion scoffed, crossing her arms as she bit down on the pancake. "And here I thought you were our most sensible girl… Maybe that title belongs to Outis after all?” She grinned, much to the ginger's frustration.
"I don't even know what you meant with that stare! Am I missing out on something?" Ishmael sighed exasperatedly. Rodion's expression turned serious for a brief moment, leaning closer to Ishmael so that she would hear her whispers.
“Fau’s sleeping in the cabin, just look over there!” She whispered, pointing behind her with her thumb. It was hard to see where Faust was thanks to a certain jade-eyed Sinner blocking the entire view, but since Rodion said it…
“...So?" Ishmael raised an eyebrow at the woman, to which Rodion rolled her eyes. “I don't see anything wrong with dozing off."
“She never sleeps in the cabin, Ishy. Like, she sleeps for like— what, three hours? And she never sleeps in her seat. But she's literally right there, like, completely knocked out." Rodion explained, throwing up hand gestures all the while to drive the point home. As annoying Rodion sounded as she went on her ramble, she surprisingly raised some pretty good points. It made Ishmael ponder for a moment, scratching her chin.
“Right…” Ishmael murmured, putting her hotteok aside for a moment. “Yeah, something's definitely up… I honestly applaud how you're able to notice, Rodya.” She remarked, earning a smug smirk from the gambler as she flipped her hair.
"Aww, you flatter me too much~ Keep doing that, it shouldn't hurt to stroke my ego every now and then.” She snickered, to which the ginger only sighed and rolled her eyes.
"But anyways, now that we - the two of us - know about all this, what do you think is going on with Faust?” Ishmael inquired, picking up her hotteok again and taking a small bite out of it.
At that, Rodion's smirk slowly faltered, dropping to a small frown. “I… I don't know either, actually. Kinda hard to find flaws in someone so perfect… But I do know that something's afoot! Something's definitely going on.”
“There sure is something, but you make it sound like it's the end of the world." Ishmael chuckled, finishing up her hotteok before grabbing another one. However, before the freckled ginger could even sink her teeth into the treat, Rodion abruptly stopped her hand.
“This is big stuff, Ishy! There's something happening and it's not just something, it might be big. It's like gambling, y'know? Slot machines? Blackjack?" Rodion tried to push Ishmael's hand away, but to no avail. Her arm didn't do so much as budge and her mouth remained agape, waiting for the hotteok to enter her mouth. “C'mon, play with the possibilities! She might be staying up thinking of something– Or someone…?” She whispered into Ishmael's ear with a massive grin on her face, voice tinged with excitement.
“Okay, okay! Now let me have my hotteok, I haven't eaten—"
Rodion's hand quickly snatched the pancake away, shoving it right back into the plastic bag before seizing it away from Ishmael too. “Nuh uh! This is mine— I mean, this is Dante's!"
Ishmael scoffed at the gambler's excuse. “Dante? They can't even eat— Hey!” She yelled, arm outstretched to reach for the culprit's coat — or hair, whichever one is closer — in an attempt to take back her hotteok.
“He looks really…” Hong Lu murmured, watching the raven-haired poet from a distance. "...Sad, like a kitten whose milk just spilled all over the floor.”
"Th- That is a strange analogy, Hong Lu…" Sinclair grimaced, casting a quick glance at the jade-eyed Sinner standing next to him, letting out a strained giggle that he desperately tried to hold back.
“Ain't that right…?” Gregor muttered alongside Sinclair, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing it outside of the bus door.
The trio has been standing by Mephistopheles's door for well over five minutes, doing nothing but stare and analyze the complicated expression painted on Yi Sang's face. Aside from the out-of-pocket comments - courtesy of Hong Lu - they've made no progress on discerning him thus far.
“I dunno, he looks… sleepy? Exhausted?” Gregor commented, squinting his eyes at the man to hopefully get another perspective.
"He always looks tired with those baggy eyes, Gregor~” Hong Lu chuckled. "Not quite, though. Doesn't he seem wide awake?”
"He's awake, but the way he stares so far off into space makes me feel that he's thinking very, very deeply.” Sinclair remarked, his expression serious and stoic. It's rare for him to look like that. Maybe he's taking it very seriously? “But his expression… It's a struggle to understand…”
Gregor's hand rubbed Sinclair's blond locks. "Don't look too deep into it, kiddo. Maybe it's not all that serious, y'know?”
"It's like he's shackled in a prison of his own making, bound by the wrist and ankles by the whirlwinds of his mind, refusing to let him go… as he makes no effort to do so in the first place.” Hong Lu interjected suddenly, leaning against the railings of the bus. The comment left the two other Sinners shocked, as that kind of remark was something Yi Sang himself would've made. “What? Don't look at me like that."
“You said that out of nowhere. That's the kind of stuff Yi Sang would've said!" Sinclair remarked. “I- uhm… didn't expect you to be fluent in poetry, too." Gregor followed up, earning laughter from Hong Lu.
“Gee, really? I'm flattered, you guys~ I actually wrote poems before. My parents didn't like them though, so we just threw them out!" Hong Lu spoke with an eerie smile on his face considering the subject matter.
Silence enveloped the trio in a tight, uncomfortable embrace. Not one of them wanted to speak out of turn so as to not ruin the flow, until—
“Right, what’s all this then?” The brash, bullheaded Briton barged in on the Sinners talking - or rather, staring at one another without daring to break the ice - with his trusty iron bat resting on his shoulder. “What’re you blokes doin’ gathered up here? Gossiping or something like that?”
Hong Lu was the first to respond, the other two still reeling from the bombshell that the jade-eyed Sinner slapped them with. “Ah, Heathcliff!~ We were actually talking about Yi Sang over there, take a look.” He pointed at the man, whose eyes were now closed as if he was asleep.
“...Huh.” Heathcliff scoffed, his eyes switching between the crow and the bachelor. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at here…?”
“Yi Sang!" The bachelor replied nonchalantly. It actually sounded so dumb that Heathcliff had to stifle back a laugh. “He's over there, look."
Heathcliff sighed exasperatedly, trying to get the laughter out of his system. “Cor-fucking-blimey, you moron. I know that! What am I supposed to be seeing, smartass!?”
“Yi Sang's been a little too lethargic today, and yesterday.” Sinclair followed up in Hong Lu's stead, seeing as any further explanation from the bachelor would just infuriate Heathcliff further. "And the day before that, too.” Gregor continued, following up after Sinclair. His bug arm pointed its sharp edge at the crow.
Heathcliff fell silent for a moment, inspecting the sight. They're right, though, he really was strangely more lethargic recently. Concerning - if not, then interesting - enough to the untrained eye, but knowing Heathcliff, he probably failed to see that as anything more than just Yi Sang sleeping. “You fellas made a big fuss over this? Poor sod's just sleeping!"
"He spent 20 minutes and 3 seconds gazing blankly outside the window, then spent 5 minutes scribbling in his notebook, and finally, after staying awake for approximately 24 minutes and 54 seconds, he closed his eyes. Judging by his still-tense posture, which implies that Yi Sang is not relaxed, it can be assumed that he has not yet fallen asleep.” Spoke another raven hair in rapid fire whilst standing behind the crowd of four, holding a hot hotteok in his gauntlet. Meursault had a penchant for just appearing out of nowhere behind a group of people before announcing his presence, it would seem, and ita had definitely become somewhat frustrating.
“That means…?” Heathcliff stared at the brick wall of a man, slightly unsettled by his sudden appearance. How come he didn't notice that he was right there the whole time?"
“Yi Sang would've fallen asleep on the 7 minute mark considering that there is very little disturbance to obstruct him from falling asleep. However, as it would appear, he has not yet fallen asleep." Meursault rubbed his chin. "There are multitudes of reasons as to why. The sunlight could be shining directly on his eyes; Don Quixote's constant movement might prove to be a bigger disturbance than it looked, or…”
The pause had left everyone on edge, including Heathcliff himself. After a while of waiting, though, Meursault simply said nothing, leaving the rest of them unsatisfied.
"Well…? What is it?" Sinclair was the first to ask, leaning closer to Meursault to better hear his answer.
“His current mental state could also be a factor. It'd be hard to discern what exactly Yi Sang is thinking about, however if mental state was the root of the problem, then the cause of it could be traced back to recent or late events.” Meursault continued his prolonged musing. “I cannot give you a concrete answer, however. I don't recall any noteworthy events these past few days. Aside from the Heathcliff-Ishmael affai—"
Sinclair quickly bounced up to cover Meursault's mouth, followed by Gregor also doing the same. “Shhh! Don't— Don't bring that up in front of him!" The blond Sinner spoke with an alarmed edge in his voice. The brunette, however, seemed too busy thinking about other things to care. Thankfully.
All the while, Hong Lu was leaning against the Bus's railings, still pondering what– no, why he looked that way. Then something just clicked in his mind, like gears turning in sync to swing the pendulum of thought.
“You all…” Hong Lu motioned over to the group. Once all eyes were on him, he pointed towards another Sinner; not the raven, no, but the dove - Faust. "Doesn't it seem weird that it's both of them that look really downcast at the same time?”
The group had their own reactions, but it all meant the same thing. He's right, surprisingly. It could be a coincidence and all, but is it really? It felt too convenient for them to look like such at the same time.
“Whaddya think? Lover's quarrel?" Heathcliff was quick to suggest, leaning against the metal railing.
“No, no, probably some disagreement about smart things." Gregor responded, to which Sinclair nodded and agreed. “Can't be too sure, eh? Those two are just as enigmatic as Dante's clock head."
"Unlike Dante, however, we're gonna get to the bottom of this one!~” Hong Lu chirped. The idea of finding out the connection between the two seemed to intrigue him, and to some degree, the rest could share the sentiment.
Whilst the trio began to round up their theories, Meursault gave the distant ravenet another thorough look, his expression shifting ever so slightly that it's almost imperceptible. It's rare for anything - or anyone, really - to earn Meursault's curiosity, let alone make his face contort into anything other than a blank poker-face.
He nodded to himself, huffing. “Something is afoot." He then added, his gaze remaining unbroken, almost as if he would lose sight of Yi Sang the moment he bats his eye away from him. “I must know what the cause of this is.”
“Y-Yeah?" Gregor stammered out, seemingly baffled at what he's hearing. Sinclair and Hong Lu turned their heads in tandem with each other, giving the man a look of combined curiosity and excitement.
It's definitely something new. Two of their co-workers, known for being particularly stone-faced for more than half of the time they appear, suddenly acting slightly different than their usual routine — something about it urged them to investigate a little bit more like detectives on a murder case. But of course, the only murder in this case is a metaphorical one.
“However, I have to attend to Miss Quixote before noontime. I will leave the rest to you.” As Meursault headed for the Backdoor of the Bus, his eyes never once left the raven. He almost seemed spiteful judging by the way he looked so intensely at him, which was much more a glare than it is an observant stare.
And then, they were left like that; left to quietly contemplate the happenings between two geniuses, whatever it might be, but their guesses are as good as mine.
Was this odd behavior a result of undisclosed quarrels? Or perhaps it's nothing more than happenstance that they suddenly felt so languid at the same time? To tell the truth, no one knows just yet, and without a genius to answer their questions…
They'll have to work together to find it, without the brains of the team.