A Skulduggery Pleasant based 1x1 between @Jacobite and @Sodomite
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Chapter One: The quiet sense of something lost
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Unheard, something is taken.
Unseen, something is hidden.
Unknown, someone is killed.
𝔸 person's morning ritual can tell you a lot about them. Some things are pretty easy to interpret as part of their lifestyle, such as waking with a groan and breath that disinfect a wound or those people who snap upwards a minute before their alarm goes off. Other things can be a little more coded, like swinging ones legs onto the floor and into the slippers with timid precision, and are often merely symptoms of something deeper. Then there's those people who pointedly have no real morning routine at all. They shuffle out of bed, eat what's there and wander off into the rest of the day, their lack of established routine a clue in and of itself. Of course, sometimes a lazy morning ritual is just a lazy morning and tells you nothing of the person's work ethic. Some people like to begin the morning sharply so they can get a full day's slobbing in and others to lounge in the safe embrace of their bed a few moments more, before engaging with the day in a professional, businesslike manner.
Sable belonged firmly to the latter, opening his eyes peacefully and slowly despite the blaring of his alarm. Such a racket would make most people slam their hand down on the fancy smart phone making it but he took his time to sit up and take a sip of water first. He enjoyed the moments after first waking up, the time when thoughts were still drenched in dreams and had yet to order themselves neatly. It was how he imagined Sensitives thought all the time, letting their thoughts chase after dreams and whispers rather than settling in the present. There was something joyous in that freedom, even if only lasted for a handful of moments before it stole away before the grey morning light.
Soon as he felt fully awake, Sable threw back the pristine white covers and strode naked to the shower, paying no heed to the open window. He didn't get a thrill from the possibility of giving some random neighbour an eyeful but neither did he worry about it. Besides, the way society was progressing, soon everyone would be naked all the time. He remembered the early 20th century, when showing a bit of leg was considered saucy and a woman could be shamed for having bare arms. Not so very long ago, really, but also somehow far removed, though maybe that was just a perverse sort of nostalgia talking. As much as he felt that modern times were better for everyone who lived in them, it was somehow hard not to occasionally think fondly of what came before.
Such backwardly regarding thoughts carried him all the way through the shower, getting dressed in a suitably casual suit and tie and to the breakfast table. His eyes roved over the shining counter tops and hi-tech appliances, finally settling on a blender. It sometimes seemed that the modern world had so many different pleasures you'd never be able to sample them all, but Sable did his best. His current culinary favourite was smoothies, made from a bit of this, that and the other. He raided the fridge, peeling a few things here and chopping some others there, before stuffing the lot into the machine and hammering down the button. There was the death groan of a dozen assorted fruits and vegetables before the blades created a (hopefully) delicious drink.
There was no time to sit and enjoy it, however, Sable had spent too long thinking of times long gone and selecting the perfect tie to have leisurely breakfast. The drink was good and the drive to work was tranquil, interrupted only by the occasional Scottish road-rager. Most of them soon found their face's going red for a different reason after a suggestive wink from Sable. It was an experienced wink, one that had been used to destabilise detectives and charm cultists, not to mention getting many decades of practise. Few immortal winks could compare, let alone mortal ones, so one has to feel for the poor drivers.
It was that self same wink that he fired at the Prime Detective, getting only the normal glare in return. The Sanctuary's Detective Department was set up in such a way that to get to their offices, each detective would have to walk past Prime Detective Arbor Bolt's office door. More often than not, he left it wide open in the mornings, just so he could fix each of his underlings with an appraising glare as they came in. Whether or not they admitted, it tended to shake each and every person it caught. There was just something in his eyes that grabbed you by the spine and made you stand up straight.
Sable settled in behind his desk and flicked idly through the paperwork. Nothing interesting, really, just the sort of thing that's generated by detective work; warrants, affidavits, testimonies and so forth. Most were done or mostly done and were really just waiting for that last burst of energy to finish them, that last piece of commitment that Sable found most difficult. Instead, he turned his chair to face the doorway. It seemed that his partner was now going to arrive at least a minute late and Sable never could resist an opportunity to tease.
