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Mikuru made haste through the ballroom’s outskirts, her brow twitching slightly as she scribbled out yet another name on her notepad. There was another ten minutes of her precious, indispensable time down the drain. Honestly, was Jett just pulling names out of his ass when he’d given her this list? That tuxedoed buffoon dipped and dodged around every question she’d fired at him, bouncing back with only rehearsed, robotic, completely off-topic pitches for his cleaning supply company. What kind of detective comes out of an investigation more knowledgeable about the latest state of the art plungers than her own case? Kobayashi Mikuru, that's who.
Her runaway ruminating was brought to an abrupt halt as she collided right into an individual who she hadn’t noticed approaching from the opposite direction. She found herself forehead to shoulder with them, the silky smooth fabric of their blazer blotting away the sweat droplets that had gathered at her temple.
Mikuru’s eyes widened on contact, and she scrambled backwards feverishly like a cat with a wet paw. “Gah! I’m so sorry, I should have been paying attention to where I was going!” she stammered out, bowing swiftly before she could even scan their face.
An amused chuckle bellowed from their chest, seeming to push the surrounding, bustling chatter away effortlessly. It was as though each of the faceless, grossly self-assured partygoers would crumble completely beneath just a puff of their breath.
“Chin up, darling. It’s more fun to toy with you when you’re standing proud and tall.”
As coaxing fingertips ghosted gently beneath her jaw like the brush of a twilight breeze, something compelled Mikuru to raise her head to face them, completely dumbfounded as her cheeks were lit ablaze by an ashen flame.
Beneath the mysterious individual’s shaggy blonde bangs, they donned a velvet masquerade mask adorned with intricate, shimmering gold embroidery along it’s border. It served less as a disguise and more of an accentuation, with Mikuru finding herself nearly tumbling down into the alluring wonderland hidden behind those all-too familiar magenta irises; the ones that seemed to peer straight through her, as though Luluka found entertainment in watching as pumps of blood gushed to Mikuru’s heart with heightened haste.
“You-!”
When Mikuru tried to lunge at her, she lost her footing in an instant. The illusion of polished tile they’d been standing upon melted away, revealing a span of haphazardly shuffled cards like platforms; each of them the size of the impressive buffet tables now clattering to the abyss below.
Before Mikuru could join them, a firm arm wrapped snugly around her waist and turned her back around. Luluka smirked down at her, and blood rushed to Mikuru’s ears in crashing waves as she clung to her on instinct, one arm coiled in an iron grip around her back while the other hand bunched a fistful of her lapel; all while her twintails dangled over the ledge behind her.
“Careful now,” Luluka whispered before smoothly pulling them both back. She shook herself of Mikuru’s lingering grip, gave her a twirl, and sent her spinning towards the center of the card. Mikuru clutched her chest and doubled over as she regained her footing, staring down at the familiar silhouette of the “Joker” through hazy eyes.
She whipped her neck around in an instant, only to find Luluka still watching in amusement behind her. She began to step closer, her coattails flowing behind her in an invisible, impossible breeze.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that flustered look on your face, my cute little meitantei,” Luluka cooed as she crouched down, teasingly pressing a gloved finger into Mikuru’s cheek.
Mikuru’s head spun as she heaved for breath, her senses overtaken with a subtle lavender scent as Luluka leaned in closer.
“You… what’s your game?!” Mikuru finally barked in frustration, flinging droplets of spit onto Luluka’s cheek.
After a brief silence, Luluka giggled, her tongue swiping out to tauntingly lap up one that had landed at the corner of her mouth. Mikuru watched on, speechless and frozen as Luluka moved to cup her cheek with the same hand she’d been prodding it with, pressing their foreheads together before muttering against her lips.
“I already gave you enough hints, didn’t I? Figure out the rest yourself, I know you can.”
****
Mikuru shot up with a choked gasp, her hand flying right to her mouth. Her lower back ached with a quiet soreness, and the hum of TV static mingled in the air with Anna’s quiet snoring from where she lay peacefully on the other couch. After breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn’t awoken her, Mikuru’s disoriented gaze wandered towards the empty VHS sleeve that lay on the table, it’s cover sporting a mysterious phantom thief tilting a disgruntled, yet flustered detective’s chin towards them.
She felt her cheeks grow hot before she flopped back onto the throw pillow once more, rolling over so that she was facing the cushion instead. If there was one thing she knew for sure now, it was that Jett would have to be banned from movie night picks until further notice.