No. 00X - The Fourth Wall

[reminded]

[There sure is a lot of excitement this morning. After getting a vague grip on the situation by talking to some of the wingless newcomers, Layton decides to take a stroll around the village, trunk in hand, and observe. Something very unusual is happening, and there's no point in missing it by staying indoors.

Occasionally, he takes a seat on a bench or at a table and scribbles notes into his journal. Or puzzles into his puzzle index. Because no matter how much hubbub there is, you can never stop the puzzles.]

Comments

[reminded]

[After seeing not one, but two other acquaintances today, Layton has been keeping a sharper eye out for familiar faces in the crowd. It isn't realistic for him to expect any single person out of so many in his life to make an appearance. He knows that. But there's still a certain manner of dress, a certain tone of voice, a certain shade of hair that makes him turn just to be sure.

He's absently scanning the storefronts when he moves past a troublesome spot of glare on one window, forcing him to look away and blink the spots out of his eyes. When he turns his gaze back and looks through the window, he freezes. Maybe even stares.]

Claire...

[clairifying]

[Too far away, too soft.

Her head darts inquisitively to the left, as if having heard something (something not him) and she moves. To the other direction, mind you, away from him.

Something seems to have caught her attention.]

[reminded]

[He can't lose her.

He begins to run, managing to dodge the people in his way just enough to avoid impropriety. It doesn't occur to him to look through the window again and make sure that it's her; he only opens the door much too quickly (but with enough presence of mind to keep it from slamming) and searches the faces around for the one he's looking for.]

[clairifying]

[Really, Hershel, is this how a gentleman should be?

But— ah, yes, there she is, up front at the counter, speaking to someone animatedly. Perhaps about clocks, as the other person seems to be having a pocketwatch out (silver, shiny, probably worth a 40 picarat puzzle or two).

It's definitely Claire. Or should it be..."Celeste"?]

[reminded]

[He spots her and waits until she turns her head just enough for him to identify her without a trace of doubt. His hand tenses around the door's handle.]

Cl...

[And then he feels someone rap him on the shoulder.

He turns around to see an impatient woman standing behind him. Because he's been blocking the only entrance, and dammit, she wants to shop. Layton hurries out of the way and offers an apology, mollified by her look of annoyance and his own inconsideration. It really isn't good of him to forget his manners, no matter what the situation. He is supposed to be a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman never makes a scene in public.

So now he looks back at Claire, hangs awkwardly near the entrance, and realizes that the moment has passed. The longer he stands there, the more he feels it would be rude of him to interrupt their conversation. He tugs at the brim of his hat. Maybe he should wait for them to finish before approaching.]

[clairifying]

[But what if they're discussing a particularly engaging puzzle involving gentlemen in top hats and pocket watches? You may never know, Layton.

Her conversation doesn't last for too long, thankfully (though whatever it was about, it has made her laugh, goodness) and she turns to move away and-- looks directly at the exit just right then. Are you still visible, Layton? Or at least, is your hat visible?]

[reminded]

[Then it would be his greater fault for interrupting an engaging puzzle!

His hat is always pointedly visible, even when it's beyond good reason for him to be wearing it. When Claire turns, he smiles almost apologetically, acutely aware of his uncharacteristic behavior up to that point. But he stays rooted to the spot and fidgets with the brim of his hat, even if it doesn't need any adjusting.]

Claire. It's... been some time.