Chapter Text
“Everyone says the Violet Isles is at its most beautiful in winter, and I believe they may be true,” mused Logico as they wandered the grounds of Lady Violet’s family mega-mansion, admiring the colorful lights and festive decorations interspersed throughout the garden maze. “The garlands draped everywhere are quite festive (and hide any unfortunate bullet holes). The topiary hedges shaped like weapons are so realistic and also disguise the blast crater. And the dioramas are really quite ingenious. That one is an almost perfect recreation of The Case of the Guest Bedroom Burglar Beating. See the elf dressed like Chauffeur Bronze clutching a blood-stained copy of the biography of Lord Violet on the balcony? Why the fake blood looks quite realistic. Bit of an odd choice for a holiday display, though...." He trailed off, scrutinizing the dummy. "It couldn't be a real dead body, could it...?"
Irratino scowled at the display. The little elf raised and lowered the thick book in time to the music. He was not letting Logico get sidetracked into an investigation today. "It's definitely just a mannequin. The Violet Isles are appealing to this new type of mystery-tourist, you know. Hyping up all their famous cases. Your famous cases."
Logico bumped their shoulders together. "I think you mean our famous cases. You contributed as well."
Irratino flushed and cleared his throat. "I could definitely have contributed more if you would just try my ways sometimes. The cards know things! Why just today I drew Sir Rulean, which, a right handed man represents the way of rule and order--that is obviously you. Then there was The Marble Chessboard which signifies a very important partnership. Finally I drew The Labyrinth which portends a long, possibly confusing journey but one with a happy ending." That's why today would be the perfect day to have his talk with Logico. Absolutely perfect, and he was not going to let any murders get in the way for once.
He had already had to steer them unobtrusively away from Comrade Champagne, who was decked out in a garish holiday sweater with a crime scene tape motif and clutching a heavyweight bottle of champagne with an odd, reddish stain. Then he’d had to pretend to blow his nose with a coded note (reading WZNV LYHRWRZM DZH HVVM SVUGRMT Z KRXMRX YZHPVG) that someone had snuck into his pocket. This is ridiculous, he thought. I just need one day.
One measly day when nobody distracted them with clues and dead bodies and witness statements and ciphers. He'd had Astrologer Azure at the Psychic Research Lab do a star chart and he had said the Violet Isles was the perfect location for a romantic date, so why must everyone clutter it up with their stupid murders? Not that he hated murders, of course not. Why, they were what he lived for. Or, at least, they used to be what he lived for. Lately, though, he'd had a little something else to look forward to. He was almost completely convinced that he wasn't the only one who could feel the vibes whenever he and Logico locked eyes across a corpse.
Inspector Irratino always started with what he didn't know. There were many, many things he didn't know about Logico: what he looked like still asleep, bathed in the first light of morning; whether he preferred to starfish across the bed or curl up tight; whether his lips would taste like the endless cups of coffee he drank while on a case or something sweeter; and most importantly, whether he was also wondering these things about Irratino.
“Have you seen Comrade Champagne?” Logico asked. “I thought I heard his voice.”
“Nope,” Irratino lied. ”Haven’t seen him since we arrived. Probably on his yacht.”
“Pity, he has exquisite taste in wines and I, for one, am QUITE THIRSTY.” Logico’s voice rose in volume until he was practically shouting. Irratino stared at him.
“Sorry.” Logico cleared his throat and peered around the corner of the maze. “Look, I know we haven't really talked about everything that happened last time we were here.”
“Well, we were a bit busy at the time, on the run from President White's goons and everything.” Irratino squinted around the other corner trying to make out the dim shapes in the darkness. An indistinct silhouette on the tower gestured menacingly with an obscure shape in its right hand. That was definitely far too suspicious for a perfect night together. “Let’s not go to the Lookout Tower. It’s probably far too drafty there.”
Logico wilted slightly. “Really? I was thinking that it might be a nice vantage point to look at the stars. But it is rather chilly out here. Perhaps we should continue walking then.”
Irratino sighed silently in relief.
Logico switched back to his previous train of thought. “You know, I've been talking to people since then. The Investigation Institute, the illegal underground chessboxing ring, the Detective Clubhouse. The mediums at the Psychic Research Institute were livid that you gave up on using their services to instead study my old Deduction College books. Dr. Crimson even told me about some illegal gene sequencing?”
Irratino harrumphed. “Some logician I made. I didn't even think about checking my messages.”
“But everyone I spoke with said that you solved each mystery perfectly!”
He scoffed. “Eventually. Somehow. Not like you would have. It was the worst month of my life. I didn't know where you were, what was happening to you, and I knew that all the time it was taking me to slowly piece everything together might be time you didn’t have. For all I knew you would die there. For all I knew, you already had and I'd never know. Never be able to figure out what happened." He stopped, breathing hard, his eyes burning and throat hot and tight with the memories. “I guess what I'm saying is. Sorry. For doing that to you so often. I've been a real asshole, huh?”
Logico looked stricken. “Oh. I didn’t think of that…” His eyes turned introspective for a minute before he shook himself. “But don't worry. It's not like that for me!”
Oh. Oh. "Sure. Right, of course." Of course, Logico didn't have that squirming, gnawing dread in his stomach when he, Irratino, disappeared. He was just a... a colleague. A fellow mystery lover. Hopefully not an irritant at least, after all this time working together. Although that may very well change once Logico heard what he had to say.
"I mean, it's quite different for me. I know you're not dead. Is there always a split second when I wonder if maybe this time...? Of course. But we have our routines by now, so I can take comfort in the logic that if every previous Sunday death was not real, then according to the established pattern, this one will be the same."
Oh, that was. Not so bad then.
"However, please for the sake of my nerves, do not ever get your dates mixed up and pull one of your stunts on a Tuesday.” Logico peered ahead of them down the path. “Why, I do believe we have made it to the Apiary. Shall we say hello to the bees?” He quirked a luxuriant eyebrow.
Irratino forced himself to ignore the wave of warmth that spread throughout his body. This was quite good, actually. It showed he did care for him. Would this make a good segue?
Irratino opened his mouth and was promptly barreled into by a hooded person who rushed away again. It was difficult to tell much about them other than that their hair held a dark gleam in the moonlight.
“Was that a mysterious stranger? Carrying a wrapped package? I wonder what they were up to? Shall we go investigate, my dear Inspector?” Logico's eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled up at Irratino.
His eyes really are so beautiful; I could stare at them for hours, watching them shift with his mood like the clouds across the sky. Curses, he was getting distracted thinking about Logico’s eyes, and there went Logico, poking about for clues. Irratino stumbled forward, trying to figure out a way to put him off, but luck was with him for once. Apparently the suspect had also bumped into the bee hives in the dark and dropped the package, which was now covered in honey and angry bees.
“Oh dear,” Logico said, drooping visibly. “I guess we won’t be able to go near that for a while.”
Irratino breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s alright, we’ll just go visit the fountain.”
They headed in the direction they thought the fountain should be in, Logico thinking whatever mysterious thoughts were running through his mind, looking disconsolate. Irratino, meanwhile, was trying to hit upon just the right phrasing to confess his feelings. He’d tried planning out what he would say dozens of times, but every time the words came out so stiltedly that he’d never been able to finish. He’d hoped that tonight, being the perfect night, somehow the words would just flow. When Logico had suggested a moonlit stroll through the garden maze, it had sounded like such a perfectly romantic location that he was sure the spirits would inspire him to heights of elocution he could never normally reach.
Instead, he’d kept coming upon what were very obviously clues and suspects, trying to ruin the perfect day with yet another crime for them to have to solve. Instead-- he scowled at the boarded up fountain-- he got this.
“I forgot that it would need to be shut down and protected for the winter,” Logico said. He looked just as upset as Irratino felt. Bizarrely, he squatted down to run his finger through some particles clinging to the rim. “Is this pollen, do you think?”
Irratino looked at it closely. “No, it’s sawdust, from the construction.”
“I thought it might be pollen,” Logico murmured, stepping back to look under the bushes lining the path.
“It’s the dead of winter. There is absolutely no pollen here.” Was Logico afraid of an allergy attack? It somehow seemed out of character for him.
“I’m afraid I agree.” Logico seemed so morose that Irratino dared to give him a consolatory pat. And if his hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary, he was sure nobody could tell.
Irratino forced a smile onto his face.“There’s still the secret garden! I bet they have a wonderful display set up there.”
Logico exhaled a deep breath and smiled back. “Somehow, I think you are right.”
They stared around them at the secret garden. Twelve foot tall gruesomely detailed statues of night-eaters wearing Santa hats stalked their prey: two elves in fedoras armed with a deck of Marot cards and a sheaf of gridded paper who were fleeing in terror. In front of the diorama, someone had laid out a blanket and set a medium-weight picnic basket for two.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” said Irratino. This was definitely not the sort of atmosphere conducive to a positive response to a love confession. He could feel the words drying up in his head.
“Neither do I,” Logico said as he shook his head. “Or actually, I do.” He glanced at the night-eaters, winced, and looked back at Irratino. “For all of your self-deprecation and irrational dedication to the esoteric arts, you are an excellent observer, and have thus likely noticed that my behavior tonight has been ... constrained. You see, certain facts were recently brought to my attention. And after much consideration of all of the evidence, laying it out piece by piece and using all of my logical skills, I have reached a conclusion that I feel I must share with you as it may affect our future endeavors. Please know that I hold you in the highest esteem, and would, if –”
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. He noticed. Of course he noticed, he's the world's greatest logician. He saw the way I was looking at him, the smiles, the little touches I couldn't resist giving.
“I think that you know that I care for you quite deeply and I have lately found that-- Oh my, is that someone running away over there? -- Right, right, yes, what I mean is that whenever I envision the future I see-- Did you just hear a groan? Sorry, distracted, I mean what I'm trying to say is–”
A scream rang out, cutting them off as the head gardener staggered forward, wild-eyed, "It’s murder, sirs, the poor under-gardener has been murdered!" They pointed behind them toward the lookout tower.
“Murder!" Logico breathed, his eyes lighting up and instinctively, turning in the direction of the bloody pointing finger. Then he hesitated and looked back at Irratino. "But, I still haven't told you what I came here to say. " He glanced longingly back towards where the corpse presumably lay. "And I have to tell you. I've waited so long, and lost my nerve, and I wanted the perfect day but everything seems to keep going wrong..." he frowned.
Irratino glanced around, trying to look at the night through Logico's eyes, by now an ingrained habit. The garden maze, with all of its beautiful multi-colored lights. A bottle of wine that Logico had seemed to know about. A beautifully wrapped package covered in bees that had saddened his friend. A picnic basket for two in the secret garden.
Suddenly he knew exactly what Logico, usually so precise, had been trying to stammer out.
"You idiot, of course I love you too. Deeply, wildly, irrationally. Just the way you love me.”
Logico blushed. He actually blushed. “I would say my feelings for you are highly rational, thank you. It's completely logical that when one finds the perfect partner one wishes to share their, their appreciation for the mystery solving skills and, and perhaps other more personal attributes …”
Irratino grinned. They could exchange more tender nothings later, perhaps over a bottle of wine (so long as that didn’t turn out to be the murder weapon).
“Don't worry. I understand exactly what you mean. Now, I believe we have a murder to solve?”
Logico brightened and snagged his hand. Together they set off at a brisk jog towards the body. Irratino would let him have his moment of deductive glory. After all, he was also proven right in the end. Just like all the signs and portents had said, today was absolutely the perfect day.