Realistic or Modern 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚢.

[aeneas.]

 

[aeneas.]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood sleep deprived & clumsy.

location outside his home.

outfit fitcheck.

tag fynn ( elytra )

ernest whittaker

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Empty coffee cups, scattered papers, and tired eyes willing themselves open out of sheer determination to get work done. The night was spent trying to find a lead in an excruciatingly annoying case. Ernest didn't even notice the rise of the sun until a crack of light hit the lenses of his glasses from a small opening in his curtains. It was 6:27 in the morning. He was going to be late for work. Again. Cusses under his breath, Ernest Whittaker quickly gathered his notes and files, shoved them into his many folders and envelopes he had for the sake of organization, and ran to prepare himself a shower.

This wasn't the first time Ernest had found himself in a hurry for his job; ever since his boss put him in charge of the latest art thief plaguing the city, Ernest had found himself pulling all-nighters and losing track of time. And no matter how hard Ernest and his team had been working on trying to catch the thief, there was no luck. Setting up traps after hours in museums, security footage, hell, Ernest had found himself dressed up as an overnight security guard every so often yet nothing. Nothing but hairpulling, paper crumpling, and the need to buy a new coffee machine that is. The profile Ernest had so far about the criminal was that the culprit was a man from the form caught by the security tapes, lean in figure and somehow had the ability to bypass the security parameters the city's museums had.

It felt like trying to catch a ghost. And Ernest wasn't a believer in the supernatural.

He took a bite out of his semi-burnt piece of toast before grabbing his coat and stack of files, letting the wind slam his door shut as he tried to balance his tower of paper down his front lawn. It wasn't the smartest idea but hey, that's what he got for forgetting his briefcase in his office. Practically walking blind, Ernest trusted his muscle memory to get him to his beloved Suzuki Dzire so he could shove his documents in his passenger seat and get to work in a not-driving-above-the-speed-limits kind of way.

But before he could get to his car, Ernest managed to be the king of clumsy and bump into... someone? He didn't have time to react and before he knew it, his files were scattered across the pavement. "Fiddlesticks." He muttered under his breath before kneeling down to re-arrange his documents. There was no shot he wasn't going to be late for work at this rate. Ernest was lucky that his reputation had the power to save his ass for the 100th time. The force's golden retriever, was reliable if he wasn't bumping into people without looking where he was going.

Wait a second. He bumped into someone.

"I am so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going." Ernest looked up to see a face he didn't recognize. It was a little strange. His neighborhood was close-knit, and it wasn't every day that he'd see someone he didn't already know. Normally, in the off chances, he'd bump into people in his neighborhood, usually it was the mailman, a group of girl scouts trying to fund their summer retreat with cookies or his neighbor Jessie who was a nice old woman who would make it her job to make sure he ate breakfast. But this man was new; reddish-brown hair and cornflower blue eyes, probably around the same age as him, and he definitely wasn't a new mailman as he wasn't holding any parcel Ernest might have ordered in a spiral of sleep depravity.

It took a glance at the moving van in front of the house beside his for Ernest to put the pieces together. "You must be the new neighbor," His smile would be less nervous if he didn't royally fuck up his first time meeting the man who now lived next door to him. "I'm Ernest. Ernest Whittaker. Sorry again for bumping into you," He continued to pick up his files, trying to tuck them back into the selective folders and envelopes as he did. "Running on coffee, a bite of toast, and a dream doesn't make me the best on my toes." Not that Ernest ever was good on his toes, he was as blind as a bat without his glasses and without them or having his sight blocked, it somehow gave him the curse of tripping on basically anything and everything. The poor man was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and even if he wasn't in the way, Ernest probably would have managed to trip on a pebble with all those documents in his face. "I hope this wasn't a bad first impression."

It most definitely was.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[elytra]

fynn meyer

mood | in a silly, maybe even goofy, mood

location | outside his house

tag | aeneas.

Fynn had moved into an average-sized house.

For most, this would be a normal life occurrence. The sort of thing that made sense when you really thought about it, because average people bought average houses to house their average possessions. He wasn't casting any judgement upon them, despite how it sounded; getting a so-so house was usually not a choice of the owner and more a choice of how much money they got in a paycheck. Even further, he actually found a typical house to be better than any penthouse or mansion you could get if you were rich. See, to him, there was a difference between a 'house' and a 'home'. Yes, he knew that was very cookie-cutter of him. It was the sort of saying that was hung up on the walls of many middle-aged mothers, right next to the loopy lettering of 'Live, Laugh, Love' and the displayed 'Wine O'Clock' mugs, the second of which he may also agree with but was much less likely to admit to out loud. Bigger houses were just so much more prone to becoming a drab minimalist hellscape. It was for that reason that he'd chosen a modest home despite the fact he had the money for more. Besides, having a huge place to himself, even if it was well decorated? It sounded like a nightmare.

So, a house. A good house that was not infested with rats or cockroaches, yet still a reasonable distance from his new 'job' he'd gotten to keep tabs on the people working on his case. It was a little egotistical of him, he knew that, but things like that were the reason he took from museums in the first place. It had never been about the money; it was about the thrill, the need to be doing something with himself, to be best at what he did. The money was just a side-effect of not being willing to keep everything he stole, something he considered to be an amateur move. Being a detective on his own case, seeing them run themselves in circles trying to figure out who he was? That was far more enjoyable than any sale he'd ever done.

Though, he had to admit, it did make it so he had to wake up far earlier than he usually did. Sure, he was still a bit busy moving, in, but he'd been given information on how he'd have to start. Something about heading to work at 7 in the morning was abominable. He'd never been the early-rising sort; the fact he was up in the first place to move boxes from the van to the house was already bad enough. Work would be more tolerable he figured for the sole reason that it would be entertaining, but that didn't mean he was thrilled about how much coffee he was going to need to get himself functioning. He'd ended up investing in a coffee machine, the sort that took those little pod things you could get at the grocery store, and he was cradling it gently in his arms as he tried to decide if he could carry anything else or if he would be risking dropping his newest prized possession.

Apparently, the spot he was standing in was suboptimal, because he ended up getting bumped into and a torrent of papers flew everywhere. He teetered a bit himself, but managed to stay upright. Even more fortunate, his coffee machine stayed stably in his arms, safe from the pavement it would've no doubt hit if he'd dropped it. He checked it over, making sure that it hadn't gotten scraped in some way, before looking at his attacker to see who exactly had rammed into him and to gauge whether or not he should be annoyed about it.

He ended up settling on 'not'. The guy was cute- dark brown curls, glasses, and just a look about him. Sort of Fynn's type, if he even considered himself to have one. The smart-casual wear helped, certainly, as did the fact that the man was obviously in fine shape. Sue him, he could admire a stranger a little. He thought he was owed it after being hit into like that.

"Don't worry about it." He maybe would've been a little more annoyed if it had been someone a little less cute and a little less apologetic, but the man didn't have to know that. It was best if he remained under the impression that Fynn was just a naturally forgiving person who didn't mind being walked directly into.

In attempt to not make his admiration too obvious, he bent down, setting the coffee machine gently to the side and beginning to collect papers. While shuffling together, his eye caught a few details, and he paused, scanning it to see what it was about. To his delight, he found that it was about him. It didn't have his name, obviously- the papers haven't settled on a solid name for him yet and he'd considered sending in an anonymous letter to correct that issue -but it clearly detailed his latest heist from a museum in the area, where he'd taken a particularly ugly piece of modern art. He remembered selling that one in a hurry; staring at it for too long made his head hurt. He really couldn't imagine actually paying a fee to go see it.

He went back to collecting papers, wanting to be subtle about his discovery, but it had already brightened his morning a little. This must have been one of his future coworkers if he had papers like this, which meant they lived right next to each other. He'd always thought himself particularly lucky, but this was something else. He was going to keep his cards close to his chest on that one; when his neighbor saw him at the precinct, Fynn wanted him to be a little surprised at least. It would be a good beginning to messing with the police.

He held out the papers for the man to take, offering an easy-going smile. "Fynn Meyer, and as I said, it's no trouble at all." He pushed himself off the ground, picking up his coffee maker gingerly. In his glee, he hadn't forgotten it and how he needed to keep it safe if he wanted to survive this venture without losing his mind. "Up pretty early, aren't you? Work being tough on you? I've never been a morning person myself, can't stand being out of bed before the sun's out. It's unnatural. And wow, you certainly have a lot of papers there. Busy with a project?" Was he prompting an explanation? Well, of course he was. He desperately wanted Ernest to mention the papers and by extension Fynn, because it would be funny. He was talking to the guy he couldn't catch and he didn't even know it. What was better than that?

coded by weldherwings.

 

[aeneas.]

/* ------ left side ------ */

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mood new neighbor and detective rambles

location outside his home.

outfit fitcheck.

tag fynn ( elytra )

ernest whittaker

/* ------ right side ------ */

Ask Ernest the night before if he expected to meet his new neighbor by bumping into him with his papers, dropping said papers on the ground, and almost costing this guy a new coffee maker, Ernest would have called you silly and went back to his notes. As it turned out, anything could happen in his small neighborhood if Ernest was clumsy enough. Hopefully, this would be something that they could laugh about in the near future if they decided to talk beyond this awkward encounter. Fynn Meyer. A friendly-sounding name for a friendly person he supposed.

Ernest was beyond grateful that he lent him a hand with his documents instead of scolding him for his clumsiness. Perhaps he didn't soil their first meeting as badly as he thought. Which was a good thing, he enjoyed the new face (if not admiring the handsomeness to it a teensy bit— can you blame him? His eyes were nice to look at) and the opportunity to make friends was always appreciated. The smile his neighbor gave him made him mirror one back before he took the papers he had and placed them back to their assigned folder and envelope. "Thanks, I'd say I'm not usually like this, but that'd be a lie." An easy-going laugh escaped him as gathered his footing once again, this time setting everything down on the roof of his car to focus his attention on the new neighbor. Ernest was already late, a little more banter to get to know the guy better wouldn't change that.

The mention of the time and job made him laugh again, although being a detective meant he had to both stay up and wake up at ungodly hours, he loved his job. Where his coworkers would often be the ones to complain as they entered the office, Ernest never found it in him to. Maybe they were just a little bit right saying that he didn't have a bad bone in his body. "You can say that the hours are just part of the job, I guess. Wouldn't trade it in for the world." Even if he'd been losing his head over and was being worked beyond relief in the art thief case, he didn't have it in him to speak badly about the force or his job. It had been his dream job ever since he was a kid and the downs that came with it were all worth it.

Besides, interrogating the art thief himself will be gratifying.

He visibly perked up when asked about the papers. As a dog would when allowed to play outside, Ernest was more than willing to talk to his neighbor about his case files. Most people liked to separate their work life from their personal life but for Ernest, the two parts blurred so much together that he couldn't help but talk about work in personal affairs like dates (and to be expected, not many people enjoy the topic of art theft and security parameters on their first date). "Kinda like a project." Here he goes. "I'm a detective and those papers you helped me pick up are casefiles for this— well— case that I've been leading." His smile grew sheepish, if not a little embarrassed about the small bragging he was doing. Ernest didn't like gloating— he barely even liked recognition when it came to photos for the newspaper whenever he solved a case deemed high profile to the media.

Despite winning the award of 'Detective Fit' from the force's joke award show a few months ago and that he definitely had the face for the interviews the local news asked of him, Ernest didn't think he and publicity went hand-in-hand. He absolutely despised journalists who'd sensationalize the crimes that plagued the city. With the sensation of crimes and those who do it, came the public falling in love with bad behavior. Ernest left little to no room for an exception to the crushing will of justice, and he believed that everyone should get their just desserts. No matter how 'hot' the gossip vultures pictured their elusive art thief to be.

"Art thief. We haven't come up with a name for him yet, but my coworkers have been throwing some around." He grimaced at the memories of the 'Sticky Fingers McGee' and 'The Ghost' being suggested by his team. They'll find the perfect name eventually. Or hopefully not at all. Ernest hoped that they could catch him so the media wouldn't get the time to romanticize the thief with eloquent names. "Are you new to the city? You've probably seen the tabloids talk about him. He's probably the reason I'm drowsy if I'm honest." Knowing how the criminal affected him made his skin crawl in displeasure, it felt like he was fueling his ego— wherever he was hiding off to. If he was even hiding to begin with. They had yet to stick a face to the name so he could have been in the nearest Trader Joe's for all Ernest knew. "He's... tricky. A challenge." There was a competitive twinkle in his eyes, just a hint of thrill. "But I haven't had a cold case yet and I don't plan on getting one any time soon."

He shook his head, that was enough detective talk, the last thing he wanted to do was both bump into the guy and overwhelm him with rambles over a criminal case he could have no interest in whatsoever. "Sorry I tend to get ahead of myself— are you liking the neighborhood so far? It's good to see a new face, Fynn."

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[elytra]

fynn meyer

mood | flirting with the detective on his case

location | outside his house

tag | aeneas.

Fynn had in all honesty expected it to be a little harder to get his neighbor to start talking about the case. He wasn't complaining, obviously; he liked to hear about himself from other people. If not an ego boost, then it was an excellent performance review. He got to hear about what he was doing well (see: what annoyed the cops the most) and what needed the most work (aka: things the cops claimed had gotten them closer to catching him). Sure, he hadn't been able to put it into practice yet, but he'd thought it all out when he'd taken his new job. The cover allowed him to both become a little more prideful and make an effort to confuse the force even more. It was a tricky game to play, especially considering that if he did things that made it clear he'd gotten inside information, it was over. He didn't assume the cops were stupid. No, he just assumed that he was smart enough to know better, and that was why he wasn't about to be caught.

Still, he'd expected to have to lightly nag a little more for some information. Granted, he hadn't gotten a lot, but it had been more than he was expecting; he'd thought he'd just get a quick comment on how it was a case from work, but he'd ended up getting a couple of new details. First of all, this was apparently the lead detective on the case. That was a delightful thing to hear. Ernest seemed the friendly sort and Fynn could easily see himself being able to be invited over for a friendly neighbor chat in the future, especially when he revealed they were coworkers. That wasn't something he was going to do yet, obviously. He was still looking forward to a little bit of surprise from the other man. Once that was out in the open, though, it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that he could finagle Ernest into allowing him over for 'detective reasons'. Being so close and working on the same case seemed like the perfect set up.

The second thing was that he was tricky to a detective with no cold cases. That was good for two reasons. One, it proved that he was doing well. He liked being a challenge as much as he liked being challenged. By being labelled as tricky, he clearly had done something right when it came to his heists. He had be confident about that already, but the comment really set it in stone. Two, it showed that he would be challenged as much as he was being a challenge. A detective with no cold cases was nothing to sniff at. He knew when to admit that something was impressive. It wasn't easy to have a record like that. Sure, Fynn fully intended to break it, but it seemed that Ernest intended to go down with a fight. That was admirable. Endearing, even.

Of course, the detective seemed a little tired. It was again a sign that Fynn was doing something correct, but it also meant that maybe Ernest wasn't about to be as challenging as he usually would be. He considered briefly the consequences of getting the man to sleep a little in order to get him back on his game so Fynn could have a bit more fun, before deciding to put a pin in that choice until he actually got a good scope of how far they were on his case. He liked a thrill, but he wasn't stupid. Getting caught wasn't on his to-do list and he had to be sure he wouldn't be helping the enemy too much by encouraging the lead detective of his case to have a healthy sleep schedule.

He would drop the line of questioning for now. He could pick it back up later. He'd surely get more information when it was revealed he was working at the station. Instead, he chose to answer the questions aimed at him. "It's a nice place." He said honestly, at this point gently cradling his coffee maker, seeing as he was now enveloped in a conversation and felt far less likely to drop it when he was holding it as if it were a child "I haven't had much of a chance to look around or meet anyone else, I'll admit. I've been a bit busy with getting things into my house. I'm trying to do it in one go or it'll never get done." He paused, before tacking on "Trust me, it's nice seeing some new faces as well, especially one as cute as yours." He added a wink for effect, grinning widely. He said it in a way that could be taken as a casual joke instead of a extremely-serious flirtation, testing the waters a little.

coded by weldherwings.

[/border]

 

[aeneas.]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood what an odd day.

location outside his home -> precinct.

outfit fitcheck.

tag fynn ( elytra )

ernest whittaker

/* ------ right side ------ */

It took a moment for Ernest to process what he thought was going on between him and his new neighbor. He didn't expect himself to literally be bumping into him so early in the morning sure, but flirting? The detective wasn't unfamiliar with the playful words, sultry looks, and dashing smiles— he avoided get-togethers with his co-workers at bars to decrease the chances of getting hit on by drunken strangers. The play flirting the force did with him were also something he experienced almost daily. As humble as Ernest may be, he knew that he could be considered to be a little handsome, with brave of strangers shooting their shot and the other policemen to playing their games on him. And he would respond to their words the same way he always did: sympathetic smiles and a gentle laugh paired off with a soft shake of his head.

But he didn't exactly do that with Fynn.

Fynn was in a weird limbo where Ernest couldn't quite read if he was joking to be friendly, or was trying to do something. They weren't close enough to immediately assume the former and they weren't exactly strangers to assume the latter. He considered the man standing before him, it felt like forever in his mind, but it was no more than a split second. His sisters always teased him for having a thing for "red flags"— they always brought up his previous high school and college flings with the rugged bad boys and the girls who had eyeliner sharp as knives. It was all bullshit anyway. Ernest didn't have a type; he admittedly found Fynn's cornflower eyes to be endearing and his neighbor didn't match any of the descriptions his sisters listed out as his ideal person. From the pleasant conversation they were having, Ernest decided he was kind and that he enjoyed that kindness.

The detective found himself blurting out, "You're not so bad yourself." If he could've facepalm without embarrassing himself further, he would've. Instead he played it off by giving a lighthearted chuckle. He wasn't lying, he found himself looking at Fynn's cornflower eyes one too many times during his tangent and the grin he flashed him didn't help his case. It was friendly, or at least the weird in-between of being so. "I've never had such a charming neighbor before. Maybe when I'm not in such a rush you could come over. Or I could help you settle in and we can try out that coffee machine of yours." His own words made him realize the time. Right. He was running late. There was a time and a place for basically volunteering to help furnish a new neighbor's home but in front of his car while being late for work was not the time nor place.

He could already hear the playful tsk-tsk from his boss already. "I gotta get going to work though, time flies." Ernest fished out his keys to unlock his car before he grabbed his files. "I'll see you around, and— welcome to the neighborhood!" He had a pleasant smile on his face, reaching out his hand for a handshake like the gentleman he was. Luckily, no gust of wind nor case of clumsiness happened with all his files balanced on his free hand.

Ernest tried not to feel conscious turning his back towards his neighbor after as he made it to the driver's seat. Blame the drowsiness still possessing him (or at least he believed he was still drowsy) but he still couldn't quite read his neighbor. There was a lingering feeling that Ernest was yet to describe that stuck with him throughout their brief conversation. Was it still about the small comment on him being cute? He wasn't so sure. It was a little out of nowhere, sure, but Ernest already suspected a sort of charm to his neighbor when they first met eyes. Ernest read people for a living yet he couldn't quite put his finger on whatever thing was nestling in his stomach when the thought of Fynn comes to mind.

"I should probably lay off the coffee." It sounded about right. Caffeine, although very useful to his crusade for justice, unleashed so much anxiety in the process. It was probably his breaking point now that he found himself overthinking a short conversation with a new neighbor. The explanation eased him the entire drive to work, leaving him happier about meeting Fynn than worrying about it. And by the time he arrived to the station, he even had a little pump to his step— feeling only a bit sheepish about his tardiness.

"Detective Whittaker, eighteen minutes isn't your worst time yet I suppose." Captain Carrow quipped, not even looking up from her monitor as he passed by. The two followed the routine they had created since the beginning hurdles from the art theft case. Ernest would arrive a couple minutes late, Carrow would be a mother hen, and he'd apologize and vow to try not to happen again. Though after her found eyeroll at another sincere apology but empty promise, instead of letting Ernest go to his desk she continued speaking, "We've hired a new detective to help you and your group try to solve the theft case. Try to show him around and make him feel welcomed, you and him have the same issue with punctuality." A new guy, huh? Meeting two new people in one day was a little surprising but Ernest took it like a champ and nodded.

Oh the surprised face he made when the apparent "new guy" came walking in and as captain Carrow called everyone to attention and gave the rest of the station the introduction to the man. But Ernest already knew who he was. He was still processing the events unfolding until the captain snapped him out of it with her accommodating smile and booming voice. "Detective Meyer, glad to have you here," Before Ernest could even say a word, she looked to him. "Detective Whittaker will show you to your desk and give you a briefing on your case. Play nicely."

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[elytra]

fynn meyer

mood | surprise! bet you thought you saw the last of me for the morning!

location | outside his house ---> the station

tag | aeneas.

Well, it wasn't exactly a win, but it wasn't a loss. He'd tested the waters with a little flirting, as was his plan, and had been given back a compliment that was an almost-flirt but not really. He could respect that; truly, the only responses he would've considered 'bad' would've been disgust or sympathy. His ego remained properly inflated and his chance to develop a personal relationship with this detective still remained.

That was part of the reason it wasn't a loss, actually. Hidden in the reply had been an invitation to come over or generally 'hang out'. That was a good end to the conversation, better than he could have asked for. That morning he'd been expecting elderly neighbors or families with kids, not much to work with but sufficient enough for his living situation that he would deal with it. Instead, he'd gotten a clumsy, tired, cute detective that just so happened to be working his case. It didn't make his life easier, per say, but it did make it significantly more interesting in the long run. It also made the concept of work more exciting than it had been 5 minutes prior.

"Until next time." He offered with a nod and a smile, hands currently occupied with the coffee machine, making him unable to wave or offer a handshake. He figured that was fine; he'd be seeing the other man soon enough anyway. It was hard to keep the amusement he was feeling about the situation under wraps, but even if he couldn't, he doubted it would be noticed. It wasn't as if Ernest would expect him to be a new coworker when he'd given no indication of such; him finding humor in such would probably just come off as him finding the way their meeting had gone to be funny.

He ended up getting to the station earlier than he had first intended. There'd been a chat with the captain where he'd explained that technically his first day was also the day he was moving in to his new place, so he would need to make sure all his things were moved in before he could arrive at the station, and surely that would be alright since he wouldn't be doing much on his first day, right? His subtle request to be allowed to be a little late had been accepted (even if with a bit of distaste for the idea), and his intention had been to milk that for all its worth. Now, however, the circumstances had changed. He wasn't just using this for info anymore. Or, he was, but now there was another aspect: the fact that his presence at the station would end up surprising his neighbor, who was still in the dark about his employment.

His attention wasn't just on Ernest, obviously, when he got through the door and stepped into the other side of the criminal-detective world that he'd never experienced before. That would've been rude to everyone else in the room who he hadn't met yet, and he was a lot of things, but he wasn't rude, you know? Criminals could be polite and he always endeavored to be when it was appropriate. So, he took the time to shake a few hands and make a few introductions before he was ultimately ended up in front of Ernest.

"Thank you for the warm welcome, chief. Don't worry, I always play nicely." He addressed Carrow, before his attention finally fell fully on the man in front of him. He offered a hand to shake, his grin showing that clearly he was amused by this. "Hi there, Detective Whittaker. Do you prefer that to Ernest, or...?" He ended up hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants, head tilted slightly as he studied Ernest's expression, completely at ease with the situation "I'm personally not one for 'professionalism' when it comes to names, so please feel free to continue using Fynn."

coded by weldherwings.

 

[aeneas.]

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood a second time?

location precinct.

outfit fitcheck.

tag fynn ( elytra )

ernest whittaker

/* ------ right side ------ */

"Play nicely."

Ernest found himself without words for a moment. Still left dumbfounded bumping into Fynn twice. In hindsight, it made more sense having both a new neighbor and a new coworker end up to be the same person. But how did Fynn not mention it in their talk? Ernest did mention being a detective. Right?

This was going to be interesting for sure.

"Next time came a lot sooner, don't you think?" He fixed his tie, not knowing he was messing with it in the first place. The detective expected to see his neighbor maybe in the next coming days when he was taking out the trash or inviting him to a brunch. Not standing in front of him at his job, hand extended for a handshake he didn't receive last time because of a coffee pot. It was only polite to give him the courtesy, gripping the other's hand firmly before it found its way back at his tie. "Please, I think we're past formality. You can still call me Ernest. Ern even." Just as before, he found himself fumbling.

There were a lot of questions that were stacked in Ernest's little mind palace. In under the moments he shared with the other, he found Fynn to be quite the character. Spontaneous. Aloof. Teasing. He was mysterious in a way that made Ernest want to know him better. "Why didn't you mention to me that you were a detective? You really caught me by surprise." Ernest had to start thinking on his toes a lot more because he never seemed prepared for even a portion of what Fynn had to offer. To think that they'll not only be neighbors but coworkers. With both of them investigating the same case and everything.

He used his middle and index finger to beckon Fynn to follow him as he walked through the precinct. From the looks of the mindless chatter and time for his coworkers to stare and ogle at the new member, it was a slow morning. Not that it would affect Ernest's workload in any way. It would be arrogant for Ernest to think of himself as the best detective at the precinct but many of the others in the force believed it to be true. He was the captain's golden child, never failing to catch the culprit and restore justice. Which also meant he was stuck with the more serious, more challenging cases like the art thief. A phantom thief that was seemingly untouchable. Perhaps to some, but definitely not to Ernest.

And maybe to Fynn too if he shared Ernest's drive.

The shock from the discovery sizzled down to excitement. This gave the opportunity for late-night talks on the theft case, the two of them being partners in a way. He liked the sound of it.

Ernest stopped at the barren desk right next to his. Desolate in comparison to all the little trinkets he collected to stylize his desk— a dual photo frame of him and his siblings with his parents on the other side, a stress reliever toy in the shape of a cartoonish deer, colorful pens, and discarded sticky notes written about both ideas on the thief and results of childish note-passing between him and the other detectives. "Here's your official desk! I guess we're going to be neighbors in more ways than one." He wondered how Fynn would personalize his space. Or if he would at all. The previous desk neighbor Ernest had, Claire, was rather dull with her desk design before she eventually resigned. "If you want I could give you some time to settle in before we go what the rest of the force has called the corkboard."

A silly name really, as the infamous "corkboard" wasn't a corkboard at all, but a spare room Captian Carrow allowed Ernest and his team to turn into the main investigation room for the art theft case. It was only called the corkboard as it felt like all the information put in the room would be the kind a sitcom detective would stick on a corkboard with thumbtacks and red yarn. Ernest found himself in the corkboard more often than he was at his desk.

Justice never rests he figured.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.

 

[elytra]

fynn meyer

mood | endeared but also scheming & plotting

location | the station

tag | Ernest ( aeneas. )

Fynn didn't bother faking looking sheepish, because he really didn't feel the need. He rarely felt shame for the little tricks he pulled on people; he'd done a lot worse and hadn't felt bad about those things, so surprising his coworker-to-be was very low on the list of things he needed to act embarrassed about being caught for. So, when he was called out for not mentioning being a detective, he grinned in a way that showed clearly that he was amused by the situation. Part of him was tempted to answer that he wasn't actually a detective so saying he was would be lying, but he also didn't want to give up the gig so soon for the sake of a fun joke. Despite making the choice fairly easily to have that not be his response, it still hurt a little not to say. It would've been funny (to him, mostly, but still funny).

"I thought it would be a memorable first meeting. Or, second meeting, depending on which one you find more important." He admitted, downplaying verbally how he'd done it for his own amusement, but figuring that Ernest would connect the dots on that himself. If he didn't, that wouldn't bode well for his skills when it came to actual criminal cases, and Fynn sincerely wanted him to be good at what he did.

When reaching the desks, he ended up paying more attention to Ernest's desk than his own. The number of colorful items scattered around drew his eyes, and he considered the objects as a way to subtly try to glean more information about their owner. They certainly showed that Ern wasn't what Fynn had expected the lead detective on his case to be like; frankly, he'd been expecting someone older and more rough around the edges, like from the detective shows he used to watch when he was much, much younger. It wasn't a disappointing development, though. He found the display- the knick-knacks and colors and the scribbled notes -a little endearing, and if the man was as intelligent and good at his job as he seemed to be from their currently-minimal interactions, then this was the best possible outcome Fynn could have hoped for.

Because he'd just been looking for information, originally. He liked talking and hearing people talk about himself, and the whole 'job' thing was just going to be an outlet for that. He had figured he'd end up being distantly friendly with the other people in the station, since that was the minimum requirement to get what he wanted from the situation, but he was currently reforming those plans. Having a neighbor who was also his desk neighbor and the lead detective on his case was too good to pass up, and he could confidently say he liked Ernest. That, of course, didn't mean he didn't intend to mess with the other man. Actually, he'd probably do it a little more, to be completely honest. The reactions Ern had given him so far had been enjoyable, and he had a feeling they'd be even more so once he got around to messing with him when he was actually doing something criminal.

"I can settle in later." He wasn't sure how he was going to 'settle in' in the first place; he should probably decorate his desk in some way just for appearances, but he hadn't thought it over, seeing as he'd been preoccupied with other things. Besides, the 'corkboard' sounded more exciting. He flashed an easy-going smile Ernest's way, taking a moment to set down his bag onto the chair that was now his. "Lead the way. I'm assuming it's what all those papers you were carrying earlier are for?"

coded by weldherwings.