#keeping the emotions plausible while still keeping the thing very much A Detective Novel

[o-uncle-newt]

Personally my favorite example of this is when she wrote in her (excellent) introduction to The Omnibus of Crime, in 1929, that "one festering convention, from which detective fiction is only just now freeing itself, is that of the 'love interest" and then basically IMMEDIATELY turned around and published Strong Poison in 1930. It makes me wonder whether she was drafting this section about the drawbacks of the genre to date and, in the process, was like "I can SO do better":

A few notable highlights:

...some of the finest detective-stories are marred by a conventional love-story, irrelevant to the action and perfunctorily worked in.

The Instances in which the love-story is an integrated part of the plot are extremely rare. One very beautiful example occurs in The Moonstone. Here the entire plot hangs on the love of two women for Franklin Blake [and the mystery comes from] their efforts to shield him.

EC Bentley, in Trent's Last Case, has dealt finely with the still harder problem of the detective in love. Trent's love for Mrs Manderson is a legitimate part of the plot; while it does not prevent him from drawing the proper conclusions from the evidence before him, it does prevent him from acting on his conclusions and so prepares the way for the real explanation. Incidentally, the love-story is handled artistically and with persuasive emotion [emphasis mine]

Apart from such unusual instances as these, the less love in a detective-story, the better. ... A casual and perfunctory love-story is worse than no love-story at all, and since the mystery must, by hypothesis, take the first place, the love is better left out.

There is the whole difficulty about allowing real human beings into a detective-story. At some point or other, either their emotions make hay of the detective interest, or the detective interest gets hold of them and makes their emotions look like pasteboard. It is, of course, a fact that we all adopt a detached attitude towards a "a good murder" in the newspaper. Like Betteredge in The Moonstone, we get "detective fever," and forget the victim in the fun of tracking the criminal. For this reason, it is better not to pitch the emotional key too high at the start; the inevitable drop is made less jarring.

My hypothesis- just as, in 1932, Sayers was probably about to start (if she hadn't already started) The Nine Tailors, which famously took her enough time to write that she had to write and publish a whole-ass Murder Must Advertise in the middle because she was too busy teaching herself campanology to actually progress on The Nine Tailors, in 1929 she was already going to start Strong Poison- in which she had already had the avowed intention of Reichenbaching Wimsey off through marriage- and writing this analysis of the love interest made her dare herself do it BETTER, ultimately leading to her realization that she could, actually, and leaving her so attached to these two characters that she couldn't dare drop them. And by extension, I have to wonder if The Nine Tailors came from a similar challenge to herself- "this is overdone but I bet I could make it ART." Which obviously she did.

I think that one of the many, many things I love about Sayers is how much she loved and devoted herself to a genre that was, simultaneously, not the main place where her gifts and literary interests lay. She loved detective stories but eventually chafed at writing them, and comparing this section of the Omnibus introduction to the discussions that Harriet and Peter have about the book she's writing in Gaudy Night is instructive- as is comparing it to what she ended up writing in Gaudy Night as a whole. By then, she's completely disposed of the idea that "the mystery must, by hypothesis, take first place"- the main linchpin of her argument here! It's genuinely fascinating.

Dorothy Sayers in 1932: "Church clocks and bodies in belfries are rather overdone lately."

Dorothy Sayers in 1934: lol jk I have a new special interest so strap in

[chacusha]

I just want to talk about one of my favorite Quodo scenes. You know, as I do. So S2 E18 Profit and Loss, for all that it’s focused on a one-episode love interest for Quark (and a romance with Natima so intense that it makes Quark very uncharacteristically be willing to risk his life and even give up the bar for the sake of pursuing it), it has some really amazing Quodo scenes. In particular, it has a really lengthy conversation between Quark and Odo that features some great things like (1) establishing important aspects of both of their characters and their relationship, (2) lots of intimate leaning over each other and casual touches, and (3) a flirtatious and shippy dynamic.

Let me walk through the whole scene because there’s a lot to analyze here.

The scene opens with Quark coming to talk to Odo about the urgent need to release Natima rather than handing her over to the Cardassian government who will execute her. Quark tries multiple tacks, all of which fail:

First, he tries to make the appeal that releasing the Cardassian dissidents would lead to a better, brighter Cardassia, which obviously Odo doesn’t buy. Quark doesn’t care about that.

Quark immediately pivots to spinning that change as one that would lead to him getting more profits -- more plausible, at least, but Odo is still skeptical. In response, knowing that Odo doesn’t find benefiting Quark financially to be a worthy cause, Quark impishly says, “Now Odo... don’t allow my greed to keep you from doing the right thing.” Here he’s making a small appeal to Odo’s moral system rather than Quark’s.

But that’s not the reason why Odo was skeptical. He’s skeptical because Quark isn’t being honest about his motivations.

“I know you better than you think, Quark.” - Moment #1 in this scene where the long history and enefriend relationship between Quark and Odo is highlighted.

Odo prompts Quark to bring up the third and more honest consideration: that Quark is in love with Natima. Odo asks Quark why he didn’t just say that from the start, which prompts Quark to go into a long rant about how Odo is incapable of understanding his feelings while Odo listens awkwardly: “What was I supposed to say? That I love her? That I would do anything for her? That without her my life would be meaningless. Sure, I could say those things, but what good would it do? How could I expect you to understand? You’ve never had those feelings. You don’t know what it means to really care about another person. You’ve never been in love. You’ve got all the emotions of a stone. (pause) No offense.”

None is taken, because that is the image that Odo has carefully crafted for himself, which doesn’t in actuality line up with who he is, but he’s happy for others to believe that is how he is like. So even though Quark realizes how harsh his words are and walks it back, Odo is not offended, but nor does he find it entirely convincing either. It’s one of this scene’s many ways of illustrating the conflicting moral codes between Quark and Odo: Quark may view doing things out of love as legitimate, but he knows that Odo can’t enter into that mindset.

(It's not text, but Quark's speech could also be read as Quark expressing his frustration that his own attempts to court Odo have ended in failure -- Quark angsting that he is barking up the wrong tree, so to speak.)

Quark then tries a fourth tack: Making an exchange instead of putting forward logical arguments and appeals. He begins to offer information on the various deals he’s involved in ("Listen to me, Odo. You do this for me, and I promise there'll be no more secrets between us") -- this momentarily catches Odo’s interest -- before Quark chickens out and instead offers information on Rom’s activities instead, which is, well, worthless, lol. Odo isn’t interested in your brother, Quark, he’s interested in you. Quark does have something of value to Odo but he’s not willing to offer it up because, well, he's just not THAT good of a person.

Seeing this fourth try has failed, Quark then makes a fifth appeal:

Quark’s fifth try involves directly leveraging Quark and Odo’s relationship and involves Quark asking Odo to do this as a personal favor to him. Here is moment #2 where Quark and Odo’s longstanding relationship is highlighted, with Quark turning what Odo said earlier back on him:

(Technically, Odo didn’t say he knew Quark better than anyone else; he said he knew Quark better than Quark thought. But Quark is speaking the truth in any case.) Quark actually just spells out their relationship a bit anviliciously: “Sure, sometimes we’re on opposite sides, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t close. I never told you this, Odo, but I consider you as dear to me as my brother.” Again, Odo is unimpressed given that Quark literally just tried to sell out his brother. One can’t help but feel like Quark’s fifth appeal failed for the same reason his fourth one failed: Like with the fourth appeal, Quark began to show some vulnerability here which actually interested Odo, but chickened out at the end. He did have something valuable to bargain with (his relationship with Odo) but wasn’t willing to pay the price it would require (being fully open and vulnerable with Odo about the value of that relationship) -- instead, he deflects at the last moment with something joking and ironic.

Finally, Quark makes his sixth and last appeal. “Odo, look at me. Look at me. I’m on my knees. I’m begging you. I don’t care why you do it. Pick any reason you want. But please, let Natima and the others go.”

On his knees, he makes the Ferengi gesture of supplication. With this attempt, Quark does two things: One, he sacrifices his pride for the first time by openly begging -- in his other appeals, he protected his pride by couching it in logical appeal, anger/disapproval at Odo, irony, or jokes. But here, for the first time, he displays humility, desperation, vulnerability, etc. Second, he lets Odo pick the reason, which allows Odo to also intervene without having to lose his own pride.

The reason Odo picks in the end is (what else) justice.

"Justice," Quark says. "That was going to be my next suggestion."

And then (after being on his knees begging, etc.) Quark slowly gets to his feet, and it’s framed like this:

THIS. IS SO. SUGGESTIVE.

I’m... I'm dying. Definitely a "getting shit past the censors" moment.

Anyway, moving swiftly along, now that Quark has gotten what he wants, it's back to the old light-hearted and flirty dynamic they always have. Now assured Odo definitely isn't doing this as a personal favor to Quark, Quark gleefully declares himself debt-free to Odo. He hugs him and Odo pretends to dislike it.

The scene ends with Odo asking how Quark plans to sneak the dissidents past the Cardassian warship hovering outside DS9. By the way he asks the question and is able to guess just by Quark's mischievous smile, Odo already knows the answer, bringing the episode back full circle from its opening where Odo was investigating Quark for having an illegal cloaking device.

Yeah, bickering, casual touching, their cat-and-mouse relationship, flirtatious dialogue, even Odo grudgingly letting Quark get away with crimes because they're a reluctant team with aligned interests now -- it's all here.

Anyway, I love this scene because it's an extended look at how Quark's moral system and Odo's don't really line up with each other (Quark valuing things like love and profit and not valuing abstract things like justice or order, and vice versa for Odo) to the point where it's actively hard for Quark to convince Odo to do something he's inclined/sympathetic to doing anyway. At the same time, they also have some shared interests (in Quark's dealings, in their relationship with each other) while being engaged in a complex dance where neither of them can quite acknowledge it. For example, Odo says he will release the prisoners solely out of his own sense of justice, but if so, why did it take Quark begging him to move him to act? Before Quark came to his office, he was reading a detective novel, suggesting that Quark's appeal is at least one part of Odo's decision to act, despite what they both say. But it serves Quark's purposes to let this slide ("So, you're not really doing this for me?" "That's right." "Then I don't owe you a thing. Thank you!") and let Odo keep his pride, so he does.

Anyway, I just love how much Quodo there is in an episode that's entirely dedicated to Quark's love for a different woman entirely. That's how powerful the relationship between these two is.

[s-j-ace]

New Plan!

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 9,119

Summary:

Kokichi Ouma, leader of the mysterious group of thieves that go only by DICE, is going through the motions of orchestrating their biggest heist ever when an unexpected bump in the road changes everything. That bump in the road is a detective and his name is Shuichi Saihara.

Essentially the events of That’s the Thing About Airplanes from Kokichi’s POV

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma was ready to be bored out of his mind for the next eight hours as he boarded the flight behind his motley crew.  He was trying to keep himself busy by being generally exasperated with them. They were supposed to be posing as different family units or strangers that didn’t know one another, but King was supposed to be Rook’s uncle and they were touching each other’s butts while handing the lady their boarding passes. Bishop and Hearts were practically leaning on each other like they were tired or whatever, but they were supposed to be total strangers. Maybe they could be rewritten as half siblings or a whirlwind romance or something? Ugh whatever.

Kokichi would normally kick their asses about this, but he’d already anticipated their horrid 2 AM acting skills. The lady taking boarding passes was a plant. Jack had wriggled herself in as a flight attendant three days ago. She was currently taking boarding passes because of an understaffing issue. An issue that may or may not have been of natural causes... 

Anyway, she’d get on the flight and smuggle the tea on board. The heist plan didn’t really involve the plane at all, so this was kind of unnecessary, but god would he want that half-way to Paris hot tea party. Besides, he wasn’t really one to leave much to chance when it came to scheming. Although that characteristic was more out of habit than any sort of innate perfectionistic tendencies. He was a king of thinking on the fly, but nowadays he rarely ran amok in that court because he just so happened to also be just as much of a genius at premeditated mischief.

It was a good thing Jack had volunteered herself for the plant job. He’d call her the most competent of DICE at 2 AM if she hadn’t drawn a dick on his boarding pass while checking it.

“Wow, it’s almost like you’ve actually seen one, you virgin loser.” He had told her as he tucked the pass into his hoodie pocket. 

She smiled at him like he had complimented her handwriting or something inane like that. “Thanks! I’ve been working on my portraits. My boss is a real inspiration in my art you know…”

“I’d love to meet him someday,” Kokichi replied congenially, “He sounds handsome and brilliant and like he should always be listened to.”

She gave a thoughtful humm, “Actually he’s kind of a prick.” She blew a raspberry at him.

He frowned. “Well that’s rude,” he commented with an offended tone, “And out of character.” He shifted to an angrier persona. "Do you want to ruin everything?" Maybe it wasn’t entirely persona, he was a little tired too after all.

“Relax boss,” Jack said, looking at the screen in front of her with all the boarding information, “It says here you’re the last passenger.”

To be honest Kokichi’s concern-o-meter for this heist was in the negatives. He was pretty much bored by how well thought out this plan was, but he felt like he had to make a point and he was rarely ever honest besides.

Kokichi huffed moodily. “Yeah sure, but what if that detective from the smithsonian, like, stole the security camera footage from this airport or something totally plausible like that.”

He was kind of planning this conversation out a couple steps ahead. He did that sometimes, when he was bored. She’d refute him by calling the detective a goody-two-shoes or something and he’d say something about caution and she’d dismiss him and then something would pop up later where he could say ‘I told you so’ and re-establish his authority. The same happened when Ace wanted to prove how buff he was by lifting the mammoth bones from the Smithsonian. They'd had to stash it insecurely and the police got to it before they could come back for it later. That was a big ‘I told you so’ moment and as a result no one questioned him on his plans for the Louvre this time around.

Weirdly enough, his conversation forecast did not come to pass this time around.

Jack frowned, looking at the screen. “Hey, what was that guy’s name again? The guy from the Smithsonian.”

Kokichi frowned. “What, the mammoth?”

“No, like, the detective.”

Kokichi squinted at her. He was an evil mastermind, he could recall the exact angle of every laser scanner in the Louvre, of course he could remember the name of some guy. Shuichi Saihara. The novice detective whose dumb friend had tripped that allarm the night of the Smithsonian heist. They’d only had three minutes to get out with the picture frames and hide the mammoth because of him. The detective had showed up at a couple heists and had gotten in the paper, but honestly the mammoth thing was a bit of a fluke. They really hadn’t had a lot of time to stash it. Overall not a big deal.

Which was why it was weird that happy-go-lucky Jack of all people was bringing him up.

“What about him?”

“He’s, like, on the flight I think.” 

She showed him the screen and sure enough, Shuichi Saihara was sitting in economy class by the emergency exits. Well, it didn’t really say that on the screen, but given his seat number Kokichi could triangulate it from the diagram of the plane he had memorized. Not that he had really needed to that, but… wait… what if he did need to...

A light bulb went on in Kokichi’s head. In cartoons lightbulbs were just a little blink that meant a switch had flipped for a single eureka moment, but for Kokichi it was more like the real life current of electricity as all of the steps of a brand new heist plan tripped over each other to course through his mind. He forgot to be bored for a second as his brain was lit up with a new scheme and all the possible scenarios that could accompany it.

He had been missing this.

Something... unexpected.

Something... exciting.

Something... unnecessarily convoluted!

Jack took one look at his carefully not grinning face and groaned with exasperation. “Awww boss you ain’t changing the plan again are ya? You already wrote us like a 100 page novel about the first one…”

“Eh, fuck that plan.” Kokichi said doing some mental calculations, “Get me ten parachutes and see if Clubs has extra sleeping drugs I want you to put them in the passengers’ drinks. The strong stuff. Direct Queen towards the rooftop diagrams I shoved in his carry on. Tell me when it gets to be around 1:34 AM Paris time.”

She looked at him with annoyance at the sudden deluge of tasks. ���Oh yeah, sure thing. And what are you going to do?”

He gave her his biggest, bestest, shit-eating-est grin. “Be myself, of course.”

Then he turned and boarded the plane, imagining and relishing in the weirded out look she was definitely giving him.

When he got to the entryway of the plane from the boarding hallway, he came upon Rook gossiping with one of the flight attendants. Kokichi heard something about a wedding and a honeymoon before Rook spotted him and excused themselves to find their seat.

“Good evening, sir.” The flight attendant said, still clearly coming off of the social high of talking about his personal happiness. Kokichi decided to slam him down from it, hard.

“It will now that I’m finally on the same damn plane as my husband.” He gave his best impression of a disgruntled everyman, which meant it was a great impression because his best was always great.

“R-right.” Ah yes, the security of making someone else feel socially awkward. Kokichi would make a great playground bully, that’s for sure. At least he was self aware. And putting his talents to good use! Bullying pseudo-law-enforcement was 100% valid according to all levels of morality.

As he walked down the aisle he noticed the rest of DICE ahead of him chattering like sparrows as they moved to the back of the plane. Originally they had planned to keep a low profile and have a pre-heist tea party before touching down in Paris, but now…

Kokichi spotted him, sure enough right by the emergency exits. He looked dead tired and about to doze off, so Kokichi took a second to make some quick observations he hadn’t gotten the chance to get on the night of the Smithsonian heist. The guy had this very detective-esque trench coat with lots of pockets, which was a shame because it meant that if Kokichi decided to pickpocket him he’d have trouble figuring out where his wallet was. Something that didn’t really fit Kokichi’s imaginings of a stereotypical detective, however was that the guy was around his own age in the mid twenties and didn’t seem like the grizzled gumshoe type at all. In fact he was kind of anti-grizzled. He had a boring pretty boy face like a model or something and instead of the full beard and square jaw Kokichi had half imagined any time the word “detective” came up in his mind’s eye he had eyeliner accentuating the only hair on his face and a very breakable looking face. Ok that was a very play ground bully thing to think. Except young people weren’t really as fun to bully as old people because they actually might be poor or emotionally insecure or something, which always made Kokichi feel a semblance of an emotion akin to guilt. But this guy was flying to Paris in the summer season and had been in America a couple weeks before, so fuck him basically. Didn’t he have a job or something?

Oh shit the guy was looking at him, how long had he been doing that?

Don't panic, analyze then act.

He seemed freaked. Probably because Kokichi had been staring at him for a couple seconds now. 

He put on a menacingly friendly grin and slipped into the seat next to the detective. Not the one in front of him, or one of the ones in his completely empty row, or even the aisle seat,  literally the one right next to him. He put his elbow on the armrest the detective had so kindly pulled down for him.

The guy still looked super freaked out, so Kokichi tried to shift his grin to the more congenial side of menacing.

“Hey, aren't you Shuichi Saihara?” He asked, extending his hand. He thought about coming up with a pseudonym but was too busy being delighted by the absolute terror on the detective’s face. “I'm your biiiggest fan.”

The guy shook his hand like it was the lever for his very own personal electric chair. Dramatic much?

It seemed to freak him out so Kokichi decided to run with the ‘biggest fan’ thread, chattering on, “I read aaall about that thing with the hairy elephant and the stupid ugly criminal you've been tracking.”

He would keep talking about the ironic impudence of this imaginary criminal but it really seemed like Saihara was having a dissociative episode while he was talking.

He frowned. That was kind of boring. “Hey are you like deaf or something?” That would be kind of extra boring because then Kokichi would be trying to bully a deaf dude and that would be lame. “Hey. Heyyyy. Earth to Shuichi Saihara.” Maybe he could thread some truth in here. “Geez I didn't expect you to be this boring in person…”

That seemed to get him.

Saihara shook his head like he was getting the dust out and stuttered out an "I-I-I'm sorry, what?"

Well maybe he had the soul of an old man, if not the looks of one, Kokichi thought to himself as he blithered on. “Have you been ignoring me? Not a very nice way to treat your biggest fans." He crossed his arms. "I, like, totally hate when heroes don't live up to your expectations."

Guy still looked half asleep… Maybe a change of scenery was in order… 

Kokichi noticed the chatty flight attendant from earlier coming down the aisle. It was time to act on his earlier framework...

He said something like “You can make it up to me,” but honestly even he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying anymore. That was the only warning he gave before reaching over the detective to break his chair. If he had stopped to think about it, he might have thought it was awkward, but it wasn’t like he had to care about what this guy thought. He was going to leave him on the plane and probably never see him again.

Kokichi held himself back from giggling when the detective toppled over backwards.

“Oh no!” He feigned surprise, “How could this happen?”

"What happens to be the problem here gentlemen?" The flight attendant asked right on cue.

Saihara was looking pretty dubious but also not that talkative so Kokichi thought about the right words to spin this.

Distract. You’re the threat here, Kokichi.

"What's the problem? You're asking me what the problem is?" He shifted his tone to that of a white soccer mom used to getting what she wants. "The problem, good sir, is that this Rusty bucket of bolts you call an airplane just tried to give my husband a concussion! I could sue for this, you know."

The flight attendant broke easy.

"I'm so, so sorry sir." He quibbled. "Here, we'll make it up to you. It's a long flight and we don't have many guests so I can upgrade you both to first class with no additional charge."

Kokichi gave a rather hearty harrumph. Not bad as far as harrumphs go.

"You better. Or my lawyer will be hearing about this."

Hah. If Kokichi tried to talk to a lawyer he’d probably get arrested. Small claims lawyers were like cops but with even less spine and more capitalistic tendencies in his book.

The flight attendant didn’t seem to care about the rot of society, though, and tarried forth to first class. Saihara hadn’t quite caught on yet, so Kokichi grabbed his arm. For some reason he didn’t expect the detective to be so draggable. Detectives just didn’t seem that way. Like they could be dragged, but Saihara seemed too tired and confused to not be dragged. Thrilling! Boring. Okay okay don’t get ahead of the horses here. Horses? Uh.

First class was more Kokichi’s style. He let Saihara shuffle into the window seat so he’d be able to keep a look out for Jack’s signals in the aisle. 

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you." The flight attendant said as Kokichi sat down.

Ugh it’s like he actually cared about his job or something. Being in customer service must be insufferable. 

Kokichi didn’t actually want to harrass this asshole when there was a perfectly good fake cop right next to him, so he replied with an apologetic smile, “Of course. Ah, I'm so rry for causing so much trouble, it's just the honeymoon you see and everything just has to be perfect, you know?”

"No, it's quite alright, I understand completely." The flight attendant seemed to relax a little, “I went through the same trouble with my husband. Really let me know if I can help you at all.”

Droll. “Thanks sooo much!" he intoned gratefully. He turned to Saihara who still looked like he was in shock. "Wasn't he just the nicest Shuichi?"

Saihara blinked at him. "... If you had enough money to hire a lawyer that could sue an airline so frivolously then you would've already been in first class."

Hey! That sounded like something a detective would say!

"I'm just stingy." Hah. Beat that logic. Nice one Kokichi.

Saihara squinted like he was about to bless Ouma with another brilliant deduction. 

"... Did you sit next to me so you could convince that gay flight attendant to put you in first class?"

Wow!!! He was thinking!!! He was totally wrong but at least he was trying.

"I can't believe you figured it out!" Kokichi did his best impression of a widow revealing a dark secret on prime time television. "It's true…Detective Saihara I was lying about being married to you the whole time. I thought you knew..."

"Wha- of course I knew that!" Saihara sputtered.

"Oh! How can you ever forgive me?" The flight attendant was definitely out of range by now so this seemed like a good time for some melodramatic tears. "Waah!"

"H-hey! Stop that." Wow what a bad detective. Is that how you comfort people? Sad.

Kokichi was about to weep even more for the loss of chivalry when the asshole shoved something at him. Was that… a handkerchief? This guy just had a handkerchief? Is that not something that only people in movies do? 

Weird.

Kokichi snatched it from him, exclaiming, “"Oh wow! What a gentlemanly thing to do!"

He proceeded to make his most grotesque snot noises imaginable.

“A-are you alright?” The detective stuttered out.

Kokichi pondered a couple iterations of “no, and it’s your fault” before deciding that was boring and saying “Perfectly fine.” He flicked out the handkerchief and held it a bit to make sure Shuichi noticed it was clean before tucking it in his pockets. “Just a liar is all.”

"A-a liar?"

Kokichi frowned at him. "No, where did you hear that?" He made an expression of disgust. “Ick, I hate liars after all.” He put on his manic pixie dream girl sees a light bulb for a first time look. “That's why I'm such a big fan of yours, Shuichi.”

"I-is that so?" Ah, the panic of a person unprepared for social interaction at two am was a sight for sore eyes. “Um.” Or maybe it said nothing of Ouma’s own skill that this guy was an awkward glob. "Y-you seem to know my name, but, uh, what's yours?"

A question! An inquiry! One for which Kokichi had the perfect answer....

"Kaito Momota."

“What.” 

Wow! What a flat tone Saihara had! Almost like he didn’t believe him or something absurd like that.

Kokichi waved his hands dismissively. "I know, I know, isn't that the name of your friend who was in the paper? That's why I read it, by the way," he said matter of factly. "Because we have the same name."

Ugh, he was adding too much supporting detail. That’s something bad liars do and he wasn’t a bad liar. He was the best liar. Accept no substitutions. Unless they were really good at lying about being a substitution… then they would probably be the best liar… 

Ok whatever ranking of liar he was it was probably good enough to fool-

"... I-is that another lie?"

Ah fuck.

"Neeheehee… ya caught me." Best to bail early on this kind of thing. "If you guess my real name by the end of the flight I'll give you a prize!"

"Like Rumplestiltskin?"

Really? Was his own charade getting that cartoonish already?

“Aww man. You guessed it the first try. That's no fun.” Logically this was boring but he was doing okay as far as airplanes went. "I guess now you'll just have to guess my second, less cool, real name instead."

As great as he was at being evasive in all situations why was the subject not changed by now.

"... Honestly I'd much rather be sleeping through this flight." The detective rubbed his face, and Kokichi noticed the darker shades of his eyelids weren’t all eyeliner. He must have business. Something that was keeping him up at night.

Kokichi determined some short term goals for this conversation. Find out why the detective was going to Paris was primary among them. That information would narrow down his field of options for how to spend the rest of the flight.

Kokichi scoffed. “Why would anyone get on a flight to Paris at 2 AM if they weren't prepared to be up all night?" He shifted back into the fanboy thread, "Oh! Oh! Oh! I bet you've got another case you're hot on the trail of, huh Mr. Detective?”

Saihara seemed to hesitate. “Uh, sort of.”

Kokichi thought he was going to say something more but after a few seconds of silence, it was clear he needed further prompting.

"What kind of answer is that?" His words seemed to surprise the Detective, which was a bit silly considering that they had been having a conversation, where words being exchanged should be the norm. "How can you only sort of be solving a mystery?" Kokichi lied through his teeth. "You know, I just so happen to also be a world class detective."

“Really? Saihara’s skeptical and unassertive response was less of a question in this conversation and more of a way to measure how gullible he was.

"Yes, really!" Kokichi replied, storming ahead, "And as a real life detective I just so happen to know that when you're working a case you work it with 100% of yourself!"

Saihara made this weird, soft sound. It took Kokichi a moment's consideration to realize it was supposed to be a laugh because it sounded not at all like the howling cackles growing up with DICE had familiarized him with.

"I guess you're kind of right about that…” He fidgeted with the edges of his coat. “There's, uh, this case that I've been looking into for a long time now and I guess I have really been putting 100% of myself into it. My friends think I'm going a little crazy…"

Ooh, that was something. 

“Your friends? Like that purple haired guy who was in the paper? The one with the dumb name?”

Considering the nitwit Saihara had been romping around the Smithsonian with, the detective must really be off the deep end on this case to be considered looney by his friends. 

Kokichi was predicting a silly story that he could use to justify to DICE his choice to sit next to the detective the whole flight beyond satiating this little whim of his for a taste of the unexpected. He imagined them laughing about the detective from the smithsonian who thought the Eiffel tower was a secret spaceship or something as Kokichi explained how he just had to stick around to make fun of him.

Oh shit the detective was saying something.

"-him and one other friend think I'm making this thing about the Louvre up… and maybe I am a little crazy."

… The Louvre, huh?

Kokichi scrutinized the detective. He couldn’t mean… “The Louvre? Like, someone's gonna steal the Mona Lisa?"

"Uh, no." The detective looked away as if mildly embarrassed. "I think, uh, someone's going to take the plumbing from the renovated bathrooms…"

Kokichi’s brain registered two things about Shuichi Saihara at the same time. One: he was a real detective. Not a hopeless buffoon of a gumshoe like the ones you saw in video games about dystopian court systems and gay lawyers. He had made a real life deduction and had done so accurately. He was on a case. The second thing he realised was that Shuichi Saihara was a direct threat to his entire operation.

People usually categorize threats as something to induce fear. Some would describe the fear as “bone chilling.” 

When Kokichi registered a threat his toes got cold. Not because he was scared or something dumb like that, but because his blood suddenly had a better place to be. 

Kokichi’s brain raced with possibilities, brand new scenarios and personas that he could put on. Like he had been sitting at a boring ass company play only to realize that the curtains were rising to reveal a dramatic opera where he was the star. Ok, Kokichi wasn’t exactly a poet laureate when it came to analogies, but he was excited okay?

Kokichi shuffled the deck of options and picked a card.

"Wow. You must be really smart to have figured that out." Ok, good thought to start with praise. He has a low self esteem. "You know…" Kokichi leaned in. Shuichi leaned away. Good. Make him uncomfortable by getting in his bubble.

Now, just for fun, lie wildly. 

 "I just so happen to be the leader of a secret organization with about 10,000 members. We rule the world from the shadows. I think we could use a detective like you."

Shuichi obviously didn’t believe him, which was, to his credit, absolutely fair. “That- that has to be a lie. There is no possible way for such an organization to exist.” 

Sad detective, falling for the classic hiding in plain sight maneuver. Disguise the truth of DICE in an unbelievable lie and he doesn’t believe any of it.

"And here I was thinking you were particularly clever." And, twist. "Seeing as you've refused to join my organization… it seems I'll have to kill you."

Oh man that really seemed to frazzle the good detective. What, had he never gotten a death threat before? Typical. It would be funny to see his expression if Kokichi were to just stab him right now. Except ew because blood and also ending human life. Yikes. Weird train of thought.

"But I'll let you leave this flight with your life if you can beat me in a game."

That seemed to calm the detective down a bit, like he realized Kokichi was just joking. It’d be funny when Kokichi pulled out the knife later. Ah, ah, ah, no spoilers.

"How about Russian Roulette with a full barrel?"

Shuichi sputtered, "This is a plane, you don't have a gun!"

Kokichi considered the ‘my ruse has been discovered….’ line again before he realized he’d used it like twice now and tossed it aside for: "Oh that's right, left it on my tchotchke shelf, silly me. Well I guess if you just want to beg like a dog and then split your guts open that would be acceptable."

Wow ok a little harsh there. Kokichi’s single brain cell devoted to tact whispered. What? No. No filter. Fuck you brain trying to conform to social conventions, shut the fuck up and stay out of my personality.

"Um, no that would kill me."

"Damn, nothing gets past you… Hmm… Ok, how about…" Kokichi reached into the pocket he usually left his Yu-Gi-Oh deck in. "A shadow game!"

He held up the cards only to realize they were actually just a normal playing deck. Oh yeah, he left his deck at home because he thought Rook might steal his blue eyes while he slept on the plane. Shit. Oh well, playing cards could be fun too.

"It's time to du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duel!"

Shuichi blinked. "A...duel? Shadow Game...?"

"Hmhmhm... Yes, the loser's soul will get sent to the Shadow Realm…" he shuffled them so that Shuichi and him would draw the same cards, "We each pull one card from this deck, and whoever has the largest number wins!"

Shuichi looked rather befuddled but Kokichi kept going full steam ahead.

This wasn’t really a game of chance anyhow. That wasn’t the point. The game had two motives, the first being to gauge Shuichi’s reactions to different scenarios, the second being to build up Kokichi himself as someone intimidating and mysterious. The card game wasn’t extremely telling, but the ensuing bout of rock paper scissors was. 

Kokichi was keeping pretty busy predicting what Shuichi was going to pick next in order to make it a tie, but Shuichi didn’t protest at all to the mindless repetitive game it must have been for him. He was either easily impressed by rock paper scissors or just too awkward to tell Kokichi to fuck off.

Apparently the guy sitting in the row in front of them had no qualms about such things. He hit the back of his seat and grumbled “Oh my God shut up already.”

A bunch of weirdly indignant thoughts ran through Kokichi’s head. 

Wow! Rude asshole! Mind your own fucking business! Get some damn headphones!

Shuichi looked like being told he was annoyed by a random asshole was his equivalent of seeing a ghost as he muttered out some inane apology. 

Not that he cared about how this guy felt, but him suddenly clamming up just wasn’t very fun at all. 

Just when he was making headway too…

… Maybe it was time to get rid of the distractions.

"Gosh Shuichi you really were being just too loud. You're like the loudest person I've ever met."

Shuichi looked at him like he was crazy which Kokichi appreciated for a millisecond before raising his voice to say, “Ugh that game was getting boring though, and no one won so it's probably time for something else.” He leaned over the aisle, noticing that Jack was standing in the aisle at the back of the plane chit chatting with Spades as Queen stole pretzel packets from the snack cart.

"Hey,” he called, “When's drink service?"

The three DICE members under his scrutiny froze like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. They were probably gossiping about him again. Great.

Jack got her bearings fairly quickly, pushing the drink cart up the aisle. "Coming right up~" She trilled cheerfully.

As she passed by to start service at the front of the plane, Kokichi noticed a little green vial tucked into Jack’s sleeve. Most likely the sleep drug Kokichi had requested before he got on the plane. Hmm. He wanted to get rid of the distractions, but he wasn’t exactly sure distractions included Shuichi anymore. The flight was still pretty long and Kokichi knew he’d be bored out of his mind forever if he didn’t get through this whole game gambit with the detective.

Another spur of the moment change of plans was in order and it hit Kokichi with yet another wave of excitement.

"Hey, Shuichi!” He exclaimed, “We should have a tea party!"

Shuichi gave him another look. “A tea party? I don't think they ha-”

Kokichi didn’t have the patience not to speedrun Shuichi’s disbelief.

“Well oooobviously you wouldn't know anything about it.” He interrupted. “I'm the leader of a super secret organization after all, so of course I know about the super secret drink menu available on all air planes.

Shuichi frowned. "But they couldn't bring anything to-” 

He stopped listening. Something something blah blah blah doubt doubt doubt. 

Kokichi shook his head dismissively, getting ready to set up an I told you so moment. 

“Just watch.”

When Jack rolled up with the drink cart she made a hand signal that told Kokichi things were going well on DICE’s end of things. "And what would you fine sirs like to drink?" She asked in a register slightly higher than usual. Jack was being smarter than Kokichi about this and had basically contoured all of her distinctive facial traits away, so Kokichi wouldn’t have to worry about Shuichi tracking her down from this interaction.

"A cup of hot green tea."

Pretty much the only reason he was going along with this impulsive plan of his was that the only person who would get any heat for it if things was south was him. He wouldn’t put DICE’s livelihoods in danger for a whim such as this.

"Sure thing!"

Was this even a whim anymore?

"And what about you?"

Of course it was.

"Shuichi here will have the same thing."

If it wasn’t then it would have to be something else.

And if it were something else, then Kokichi wouldn’t know what it was.

He couldn’t afford to be that stupid.

"Of course.” Jack smiled almost a little too fakely. “Anything added in like sugar or cream?"

She was obviously double checking that Kokichi didn’t want this bastard drugged.

"No, we're both taking it plain today."

"Oh, really? Alright then." 

She poured the tea.

“"I hear you two are on a honeymoon? That's so lovely. Can I see the rings?”

Kokichi usually appreciated that Jack was quick to catch on to things, but she was bordering on insubordination at this point. 

"You know what I hear?” Time to play real housewives of DICE with this gossip again. “That lonely flight attendants should realize they're sad and nosey losers who should keep their noses out of happy people's business."

Aw shit she was going to think he was flustered and covering up something wasn’t she.

"Teehee~ Yes sir! Enjoy the flight." Yeah she totally was on to him

Wait no because to be on to him she would have to be right and she wasn’t so there.

Oh shit wait Shuichi was still here. Looking extremely awkward and unsure if he was also supposed to start bitching at flight attendants like it was common etiquette or something.

"That was all code you know.” He brushed it off. “Super secret organization stuff. You probably wouldn't understand."

"Uh, yeah." He said, "I probably wouldn't." 

Wow this guy was funny. Kokichi was moderately glad he wasn’t in a drug induced coma right now. Moderately glad was pretty good for an airplane vis a vis emotional stability.

"Neeheehee…” He let himself laugh a little. “Drink the tea Shuichi, I've got to pull you into a false sense of security before your final trial."

Shuichi frowned. "I feel like by pointing out that you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security you have essentially not done so."

"See, but because you feel that way it means I have succeeded in lulling you."

Shuichi frowned again, but seemed to see no logic in arguing. He decided to take a sip of his tea instead. Kokichi noticed the asshole in the chair in front of him was asleep. So was the guy in the seat across from his, and the woman in front of that guy was dozing too. Everyone else had a drink and would be soon to follow.

Everyone except for…

“So how do you like the tea, Shuichi?” Ouma asked.

Shuichi was drinking that hot leaf juice like a pro who didn’t even feel the burn. He made a contemplative expression.

“It’s pretty good as far as tea goes.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

Kokichi felt a little offended on the behalf of DICE’s custom blend as well as all of the classy tea drinkers in the world. He shook his head

"Fff, what are you, a cop or something? Next you’ll be telling me you like donuts more than cupcakes." 

Shuichi made a weird face before looking away. 

"Holy shit," Kokichi said. This was the perfect time to both change the subject and do a little investigating of his own. " Are you a cop? Like a really funny undercover cop who decided to pretend to be someone with the exact same job?"

"Uh, no, that's not it." 

Was it something about the donuts then or- wait no that was stupid it was obviously the cop thing. 

Shuichi was looking out the window now. "I, uh, did used to be a force detective."

"Huh," Kokichi remarked, trying to peek around at Shuichi's face, "Were you fired or something? You must've been pretty bad to get fired from some backwater police station."

"No that's not it." He seemed to be leaning into some sort of memory, "I quit actually…"

Ugh, who gave this fucking loser the right to be interesting. It was totally unfair.

Kokichi kept digging, "Man why wouldn't you want to be a cop. Clearly the most respectable public service someone can provide for their country…" but that was totally a lie. Cops suck.

Shuichi frowned. "I, uh, kind of disagree with that." He was pulling at his fingers like he was trying to stretch them like taffy. "I met a lot of people on the force who really did care about making the community better, but I feel like the existence of law enforcement is really a symptom of larger societal problems, and that the structure of power doesn't work to reduce crime or violence but instead works increase it by giving a group of privileged individuals the power to instill generational trauma in communities."

Uh… huh. Kokichi took a moment to process that because he had never thought about “cops = bad” beyond their innate fuddy duddy inclinations to stop him specifically from doing whatever the hell he wanted. What the fuck? Did this guy actually have, like, opinions??? And legitimate reasons for them??? Who gave him the right??? How could Kokichi hear more of them???

Pff wait he was probably some rich kid who took maybe one social justice class in college and became a stooge of the state anyway. Maybe he was, like, a real policeman's embittered assistant or something.

"That's lame." He lied, "cops are the cops, do you want folks to be murdering people left and right all the time??? I bet you've never even met a criminal." Hehe that one was a bit ironic, he'd laugh about it later.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at him, "Well, I have… I was a homicide detective, actually. I've arrested murderers in person many times..."

What???? Is this what talking to all strangers for extended periods of time was like? You found out they actually had lives? And cool careers? That they made their livings in murder?

Nah, Shuichi was probably an exception. You don't meet an anti cop homicide detective everyday after all…

Kokichi decided he was being too endeared so he planned out a new branch of conversation that would hopefully make Shuichi squeamish, or at least unnerved.

He put on his best enthusiasm face. "Tell me about a murder! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Shuichi blinked at him, surprised at his sudden shift in mood. "Uh, alright then…" he said.

Shuichi started to go into detail about a case he had solved his first year on the force. Some guy turned up dead in a public pool and everyone else had basically given up on the case. Shuichi was describing how he figured it out through deductions and use of specific forensic techniques, and to be honest he wasn't exactly a master of suspense. Kokichi was able to deduce the murderer from the details Shuichi chose to include. No, none of that was why he was completely mesmerized with Shuichi while he talked.

Hearing about the things that Shuichi did to get to the evidence in the first place was… impressive???

No that couldn’t be right. 

Maybe it was just weird to see a mousey guy like him get as jazzed up as Kokichi about solving murders, and not even in a weird or vaguely creepy way. He just seemed like… Kokichi hadn't thought about it in a long time but when he was a kid he read a shit ton of mystery manga, where the heroes were detectives. He had since then moved on to more sophisticated literature such as airplane diagrams and police radio transcripts, but Shuichi reminded him of those detectives instead of the old fuddy duddies with which he had begun to associate the profession. He was just kind of… cool. Yeah that was the word for it. Cool. Like he was always going to get around to the right answer no matter what. Yeah, he had that abstract "coolness" factor that had drawn Kokichi to protagonists as a kid.

Kokichi wanted to steal it from him. Break his composure, become the center of the stage in this narrative. Yet, at the same time he suddenly dreaded his own inevitable heel turn. This was something rare, he decided, getting to talk one on one with Shuichi like this. It would probably never happen again.

So Kokichi listened. He teased, interjected, and prompted superfluous explanations, but he listened. 

And Shuichi talked. He talked about murder most foul, crooked cops, elusive evidence, and the friends he made along the way. Shit straight out of a manga that Kokichi was spending his Saturday morning hyper-fixating on.

The conversation only ended when Shuichi had to get up to use the toilet. A stark reminder that manga wasn’t real and in meatspace human beings had to shit every now and then. Kokichi watched him go and felt a little sad. Like he knew whatever it was worth, the moment had passed. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and now all he had was to dissect it over and over again in his head until it became mangled beyond recognition...

Yeah yeah ok, world's tiniest violin, scattered ashes, ceremonial boat burning, yadda yadda.

Kokichi had a heist to pull off, no time for any of this silly stuff. He dismissed whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest and decided to go with the more practical inspiration that struck him. He took a couple seconds to plan out his grand exit. He decided to leave Shuichi a note and justified to himself that heists had been getting boring lately and as a proper game master he should give Shuichi a hint. Hmm were his initials too much? It might seem like…

Well he didn't really know what it seemed like, which was weird because he was a genius. Was he actually trying to figure out how Shuichi would react to this? He hadn't really thought about what Shuichi's opinion of him had been because he had only started thinking of Shuichi as an actual person halfway through the flight. That was the thing about being in a close knit organization, he always thought about DICE as an extension of himself and everyone else as some sort of nebulous other he had to predict the movements of. Sometimes he forgot that if you spent a lot of time talking to some stranger you find out they have brains and lives and stuff.

Speaking of things that probably have brains and lives and stuff, things seemed to be going good with DICE. Jack had signaled him that she told everyone about the plan when she came by to collect trash. 

Of course, he and Shuichi were the only ones she took trash from. Everyone else was fast asleep, all according to plan. Kokichi had written some last minute details on a napkin he had put in the trash bag, so they all knew they were dropping soon. 

They were also all probably gossiping about him. He supposed that's what he got for ditching them to sit with a detective dressed in black like a sexy motorcycle. Wow that was terrible where did his brain even get that line and how could he use it to make Shuichi freak out. Probably pretty easily...

Except if everything went according to plan maybe he wouldn't have the chance. Not like this. He imagined himself yelling the comment at Shuichi from the safety of a getaway chopper, like in the movies…

Ok his note was basically done now. Oh hmm. This actually seemed kind of desperate, the note. It kind of screamed "track me down to the end of the world please" like some sort of piss baby cry for help. 

Aw shit. He was thinking about what Shuichi thought about him again...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear but Kokichi was already here and hadn't talked about himself in a bit, so Shuichi showed up instead. His hands were wet which meant he washed them and goddammit it was insufferable how tolerable this guy was. Did he have no weaknesses besides being generally awkward and also being someone who used to be a cop? Ugh wait the latter was kind of cool too. Insufferable.

Well you know what they say, if you can't beat em plan to jump off an airplane because you did beat them they just don't know it yet.

Kokichi decided their final trial together deserved some dramatic build up, so he bowed to Shuichi as he got up to let him sit back down. 

"Welcome, combatants." He illustriated, "Take your seat and prepare for the final trial."

Shuichi gave him a wary look as he slid back into his seat. 

"What is it this time?" he asked.

Kokichi considered pulling out the crying on that one, but got too excited about how Shuichi would react to his pulling out the knife instead. Thusly he reprimanded the detective’s lack of enthusiasm with a single tsk.

“You could stand to be a little more concerned mister detective, it’s your life on the line after all.” 

Shuichi gave him a dubious look, like he trusted airport security and general societal norms to keep him from being murdered. 

Kokichi wanted to tear down the walls of that trust.

He pulled out the knife.

Shuichi’s reaction was instantaneous. He practically jumped away from Kokichi in his seat. Weirdly enough... that just made Kokichi realize they had been sitting pretty close before...

How did that happen?

Eh no time for that.

“Is that a knife?” Shuichi yelped, “How did you get a knife on the plane?”

It was weird how Shuichi stuttered about everything except things that were actually dangerous. Well maybe Kokichi having a knife wasn’t really dangerous, but Shuichi didn’t know that and here he was saying complete words. Sentences and all. And yet it still had the streak of incredulity running through it that shot through to Kokichi’s head faster than his own signature panta-redbull blend.

“Oh, a villain's got his ways.” He said in a way that he thought was pretty cool and mysterious.

Shuichi still seemed to be panicking a bit and Kokichi was getting a little tired of that so he brushed past it.

“Now this game's pretty easy to understand, but you gotta be skilled,” he explained matter of factly, “I'll go first to show you how it's done.”

When some other kids had showed him this game when he was an even tinier bastard they had started off slow and slowly sped up. But he was still kind of leaning into the shock factor, and going slow was lame. He started stabbing the table through his fingers at a breakneck pace.

“H-hey!” Shuichi exclaimed (oh so now he stutters), “You're gonna hurt yourself doing that!”

“Pff, as if I would.” 

The thing about this game is that it required rhythm, and rhythm required predictable repetition, and being predictable was the antithesis to everything that brought him joy in life.

He sped up.

“Here it's really easy.”

He went even faster.

The knife went *thuck thuck thuck* as it massacred the table.

When you did something the same way for a long time it gave you time to think about things. It didn’t really give you anything specific to think about, though, so Kokichi always felt like he was wasting time.

The knife went *thkthkthk* between his fingers.

He wanted to consider next steps. How long he would do this for and what would he do if Shuichi lost the game… Instead he started thinking about when he learned the game. He remembered he had picked it up from some of the older kids at one of the homes. The only other thing he remembered about them was one time they had stood by a rose bush with him, tearing off thorns and pushing them into their fingertips. Kokichi had done it and remembered that it didn’t feel like anything at all.

*Schlick*

Your fingers are full of blood vessels and nerves, but if you push down to the cartilage-

Oh wait. 

“Agh!” Shuichi exclaimed from beside him, “You’re bleeding!”

Kokichi was bleeding.

He was looking at his hand. His knife had nicked a millimeter of skin on the inner side of his ring finger, just at the junction between the tip of his finger and the second part of the ligament. It occurred to him that he was in pain.

“Ow,” He said on instinct. Or maybe he thought it in his head. It didn’t matter because he was busy also thinking about how Shuichi had just grabbed his wrist and pulled it over to him.

The detective placed Kokichi’s hand in his lap like a sandwich he was saving for later while he ruffled through his coat pockets. He drew out a bandaid and lifted Kokichi’s hand again. His fingers were longer than Kokichi’s, and they felt sort of cold, like his blood had better places to be than his fingertips. They were very, very gentle as they wrapped a bandage around the bleeding finger. Almost like Shuichi cared or something.

The detective’s greyish green eyes flickered up to him and Kokichi realized Shuichi had really long eyelashes. “You really ought to be more careful.” He said in his soft way.

Kokichi was honestly having more emotions than were necessary about this, so he focused on the annoyance.

Man, good at figuring things out, is interesting, has opinions, and actually cares about other people? Was this guy even a real person??? That seemed like too many character traits. Geez Shuichi, why did mom let you have all of the attractive personality qualities?

Did he say attractive? He meant annoying. 

Shuichi squinted at him. His eye lashes weren’t that long, he was wearing eyeliner. Kokichi had already noticed that. He just had to start thinking coherent thoughts again.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

Yeah, for sure.

Shuichi was still holding his hand and Kokichi decided it was time to not be touching another person again, so he quickly whipped it away. He tried to settle into a boastful kind of hands behind the head pose, but worried that the effect was lost by the sudden squirming of emotions in his gut.

"Geez," Kokichi said petulantly, "I can't believe you actually beat me."

He stomped everything down. It was time for action not... not whatever this was.

Shuichi blinked at him in confusion. "Beat you? But I didn't even play…"

"Doesn't matter." Kokichi shifted to a new pose where he leaned his arm on the rest in between them and propped his head up, positioned for his next steps. "The rules were if I cut myself I lose, and I lost."

“...Although, it doesn't matter if you join my organization or not anymore, Shuichi."

Shuichi looked at him in confusion and Kokichi found it kind of frustrating that he didn’t know which aspect of this that Shuichi was contemplating. 

“Uh, it doesn’t?”

Very eloquent, Shuichi, that clears things up.

"Nope." Kokichi moved a bit so that both elbows rested on the arm rest and propped his head up closer to Shuichi’s. "Because I've already done something much more important than winning."

As Kokichi leaned in Shuichi leaned back. Shuichi was staring pretty intensely at his eyes which made this the perfect opportunity. Kokichi’s hands went lightly down to Shuichi���s waist, where he put the detective’s seat belt into a dreadknot.

“W-what's that?” The detective stammered, no doubt as alarmed by the proximity as Kokichi had anticipated.

Kokichi hadn’t really anticipated what he would say next though.

He went with, “I've stolen your heart.” He felt a millennia of DICE movie nights spent making fun of romantic comedies crash against his soul and decided to change the genre before he embarrassed himself. “Because I'm a thief you know?”

He was practically breathing in Shuichi’s ear by now, which made this next part a little hard. He unbuckled his seatbelt. Then, in a fluid motion Kokichi’s hands went behind his head as he arched to place them on the aisle armrest. He did a handstand for an instant on the arm rest before landing his feet across the aisle on to some poor bastard’s tray table.

When he came up for air he observed that he had knocked a cup over and that Shuichi had just noticed his own seat belt malfunction. The detective’s look of dawning realization felt like a standing ovation.

"Hmmm, I really should kill you, now that you've seen my face," and maybe he would if DICE were that kind of organization. It was kind of troubling that the police would get sketches, and the gang would probably harrang him about it. But eh, what can you do. 

Certainly not murder. You can’t just murder people. That’d be dumb. Boring even.

Kokichi hopped down from the tray table and grabbed his heist bag. It would’ve been bad to forget that, he considered as he pulled out his mask, Louvre cameras are a lot more reliable than a half asleep detective’s recount.

Said detective was certainly fully awake now, looking at Kokichi in an utterly gobsmacked manner. Kokichi felt like he was sinking his teeth into the stem of a rose thrown from the audience.

"... But I think that'd be a waste, don't you?" Maybe the trouble was what he was looking for, after all. He wondered if they would fingerprint the arm rests when the plane touched down. They wouldn’t find any matches in any criminal database, so it didn’t matter much to him. He put on his gloves anyway before tossing Shuichi the note he had written.

No time for second drafts. He thought as he started walking down the aisle.

“Somebody! Stop him!” Shuichi yelled from behind him. It was so manga detective that Kokichi wanted to scream.

The rest of DICE was already getting up with their parachutes on, and a few turned towards Shuichi’s call. Thank goodness they were wearing their masks because he wasn’t sure if Shuichi could still see down the aisle or not. He might’ve seen Jack’s face, but she had been wearing a lot of makeup so it was probably fine.

She certainly didn’t seem concerned. She was checking the knots the only actual flight attendant on the plane was trussed up in.

Ace, always a little over eager, wrenched open the emergency exit as Kokichi was still putting his parachute on. He felt the drastic change of air pressure in those spaces you feel it in your skull and stomach. He hadn’t realized how warm the inside of the plane was until the cold air sucked it out. 

He used convenient zippers to close up his hoodie pockets, knife included, and buckled up the rest of the parachute’s straps.

He looked back, just once. Shuichi was peering out at him in the aisle. He looked like his world was ending and Kokichi reveled in the power of that. That he was just that important to this detective.

The curtains are about to drop but there are still people screaming in the balconies.

He smiled.

The encore wasn’t up to him.

“So long, Mr. Detective!" He got to the window. "Better luck next time.”

Kokichi jumped back first out of the plane and the walls and the aisles and the lights of the plane slipped out of view through the emergency exit one by one.

And he fell.

He fell and flipped over to take in the view of Paris below. The city of lights indeed. It was beautiful, he supposed.

He fell, letting himself enjoy the breeze a bit before reaching terminal velocity. 

He didn't though. 

Enjoy it. 

It felt like getting on a fucking awesome roller coaster except it’s also your every day ride to your job at some dead end minimum wage desk.

It was… boring. Routine.

Just victory, just the Louvre, just air.

Even as the other members of DICE whooped and hollered on their descent, Kokichi realized the fun part of the heist was already over. The whole heist was over.

He could predict it all.

He would deploy his parachute, he would float down to the Louvre, and he would orchestrate a perfect heist.

But Kokichi Ouma realized then that he would never stopped falling.

[abbajane]

To celebrate the release of Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express, and to kick off my Author Tuesdays, let’s talk about Agatha Christie!

Murder on the Orient Express, And Then There Were None, Five Miss Marple Novels

Whether or not you’ve ever read a Christie novel, I’m sure you’ve at least heard of her. She’s the undeniable Queen of Mystery and is one of the best selling authors of all time. Her most infamous creation is Hercule Poirot, the quirky genius detective, but she’s also well known for her independent novels and the Miss Marple collection, about an elderly woman who solves crimes in her small town. Before we break into my reviews, let’s take a minute to get to know Christie.

I won’t bore you to death with biographical details, so here are five fast facts about Christie, all taken from her website, which has more information if you’d like to read on.

Christie in later life.

Front page regarding her disappearance.

Christie and Mallowan on a dig site.

Christie as a young girl.

Agatha Christie was born in September 1890 (a Virgo! Of course!) in Southern England, and died in January of 1976.

Christie wrote a 66 detective novels and 14 short story collections. The most famous of these are Murder on the Orient Express, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Death on the Nile, and Murder at the Vicarage.

During the First World War, in which Christie began to write, she worked at a hospital dispensary where she learned about poisons. According to her website, “The murderer’s use of poison was so well described that when the book was eventually published Agatha received an unprecedented honour for a writer of fiction – a review in the Pharmaceutical Journal.”

Agatha Christie married a couple of times. Her first husband Archie Christie was an aviator in the war, and they married in 1914. Her second husband, Max Mallowan, was an archaeologist in the Middle East when they met and married in 1930.

In 1926, Agatha Christie vanished. Her car and some of her belongings were found in her abandoned car, and no one knew where she had gone. For ten days the nation searched for her, and eventually she was found in a spa under a fake name, seemingly unable to recognize her husband. Opinion is still divided today on whether Christie cracked under emotional strain between her husband’s infidelity, poor reception of her novels, and her mother’s death which caused her to experience amnesia, or if she was orchestrating some publicity stunt or effort to frame her adulterous husband for murder. She makes no mention of the incident in her autobiography.

I’ve read three of Christie’s novels this fall, and I chose them in an attempt to get a wide view of the kind of story that Christie was capable of. All of them deal in careful clues, twisting narratives, and untrustworthy characters, and all of them were a joy to read!

Murder on the Orient Express (1934)

This is the novel that got me interested in Christie. I never framed myself as a mystery-lover, but I do love crime shows like 20/20, Dateline, and anything on the Investigation Discovery Channel, so I guess I should have given crime novels a go earlier! I picked up this novel because the film was about to be released, and because I had a computer game as a child that was based off this story that I loved dearly. So, I knew how this story was going to end, but that didn’t make the process any less enjoyable.

The premise of the novel is ambitious: a vaguely unlikable man is murdered on the cross-continent voyage of the Orient Express. The train is delayed by heavy snowfall, and the famous detective Hercule Poirot, who was planning to enjoy a peaceful journey, is recruited to investigate the 12 passengers and figure out who killed the man. Twelve suspects is a lot to keep track of, and there is a lot of evidence and motive to investigate, but Christie keeps the information manageable and, though some of the lesser characters can blend together or fade out, the cast as a whole provides plenty of entertainment and intrigue. I won’t spoil, in case you haven’t heard how it ends, but I will say that it is so clever that you’ll never see it coming.

I really enjoyed Poirot. He’s charming, quirky, and so damn smart that half the novel is keeping up with him. Christie has a tendency to be very cut and dry, meaning she doesn’t infuse a lot of emotion into her texts. She deals in the black and white of things, in cold logic and provable fact. While this novel sets up a lot of emotional turbulence with its conclusion, Christie keeps her feet dry by ending the novel right when the emotional could have run in and stolen the genius of the crime. I personally prefer a little more feeling and emotion in my stories. I like to feel with characters and experience their emotional conflicts, but Christie left me hanging with this one. As I read more of her work, I found the same issue, but it’s probably my only complaint with Christie’s work.

The cast of this film is stellar. Daisy Ridley! Judi Dench! Olivia Colman! Penelope Cruz! Kenneth Branagh! 

I’ll take a quick moment to talk about the film, since I felt the film not only was a roaring success in cinematography, acting, and directing, but it also filled in those pitfalls that I found in Christie’s writing. The film was chock full of emotion, but still kept all those subtle clues and careful stages that comprised Christie’s novel, and even added a few more with mirror doubling, claustrophobic and vertigo-inducing shots, and one lovely Last Supper reference. It diverted from Christie’s novel only to fill the characters with a little more heart and feeling, which I felt was done tastefully and neatly. I got choked up a few times in that film, which I love! It was cathartic and moving and I think Branagh did a wonderful job with it. It seems we’re in for a few more Branagh/Poirot collaborations so buckle up!

The Body in the Library (1942)

This novel was my least favorite of the three Christie stories I read. I can’t quite put my finger on why I didn’t like it as well, but I think some small part of it might have been Miss Marple herself — she didn’t add much and she was mega-judgmental. Maybe I’ll read a few more, since I have a collection, to test my theory but something here fell flat, and it wasn’t just the lack of human sympathy and emotion, which seems to be token in Christie’s novels.

When the body of a missing hotel dancer turns up in the library of a well-to-do family man, his wife calls in Miss Marple to offer her advice on the case. Between the skills of the detective and the nosy old woman, the murder is brought to light after some seriously twisty turns and inference. This ending I felt to be a little too absurd to be realistic or plausible, and while Christie likes those WTF moments, this one just didn’t seem to have even the smallest element of believability in it. With the other Christie novels I read, I felt at the end that though it was entirely wild, it was explained in a way to make it entirely possible, given the facts. I think another thing that I didn’t care for was the overly traditional motive. After Orient Express and And Then There Were None, I wanted something a little more eccentric. Seems I can’t be pleased! The events were too unbelievable, and the motive wasn’t unbelievable enough!

Again, I’m going to complain about the lack of compassion and feeling in this one. I felt the victim was treated quite unfairly by others, especially with a surplus of unkind comments. Additionally, there was a lot of glee, and not just from the weird and excitable child, about the fate of the murder. These folks love death — even when its in their own houses. When you look at the gender politics at play here, there are a lot of cringe-y moments, and oftentimes I wondered if I was reading too far into things or if Christie was trying to subtly suggest some underhanded behavior by various male characters. Overall, I think the context of gender was nearly as huge of a character as any of them, but was completely treated as the elephant in the room. I can’t hold it too strongly since I’m reading with a modern mind, and concepts about rape-culture and sexism and shaming weren’t so easily verbalized or examined when the novel was written in 1942. Still, this novel just didn’t do enough for me. It felt half-assed, honestly.

And Then There Were None (1939)

This was the first Christie novel I read, and it is undeniably my favorite. ATTWN is not a Poirot or Marple detective novel, so it stands in a category of its own. This story was also included with the Murder Mystery computer game pack that I had when I was a kid, so I again knew the outcome of the story, but it had been ages since I’d played the game. While I knew who the murder was, I couldn’t remember the hows and whys that make this novel so great and complex, so it was almost as good as reading it completely new.

This novel, like Orient Express, is made of a cast of seemingly unrelated characters. Ten people arrive to a remote island residence all under different pretenses, but all on the invitation of the mysterious U. N. Owen. Strangely, and horrifyingly, the guests suddenly start dying in the order and method described by a children’s nursery rhyme as soon as they arrive, and soon realize they have been stranded on the island with a pyscho-killer. It’s utterly insane and terrifying. The remaining guests must work agains the clock (and each other) to figure out who the murderer is before it’s too late.

Where the other Christie novels failed to thrill me or strike at my emotions, this novel went above and beyond. I was scared, I was anxious, I was sympathetic, I was horrified. The whole thing was a rollercoaster ride from start to finish, and I really could not put it down. Like the other novels, the ending was completely surprising, but this one finishes up with a confession which is even more spine chilling than the action of the novel. This murderer is the most psychotic that I’ve read, and foreshadows the kind of killers that we obsess over today from the likes of Stephen King.

I can’t write a review about this novel, no matter how well I like it, without addressing it’s very sketchy and messy past. The novel was originally published under another name, which I will not write here, but will link to. Clearly, the name is racist and meant to inspire thoughts of darkness, violence, otherness, and evil via the racism of the day in the reading audience of the 1940s. To add onto this racism cake that Christie was building, the novel was renamed for the American readership, to Ten Little Indians, which is still meant to signal all of those wicked stereotypes about a certain race, but in a distinctly American context (not to say that white Americans were worse on the Native populations than the Black ones, or that Black populations had it any easier because that word was removed from the American title). Eventually, publishers decided that racism, no matter who you were being racist to, was not cool or remotely acceptable, and they changed the title to it’s current iteration, with the children’s poem being Ten Little Soldiers instead. I had no idea about this history when I read the novel, though I was vaguely familiar with the rhyme from a similar, though less gruesome and equally racist rhyme about little Indians.

Christie’s racism doesn’t come as a terrible surprise to me, since in Orient Express there was a lot of slurring and stereotyping being thrown around by the passengers and suspects. In Branagh’s film, the racism is adjusted, I think, to help modern audiences (especially American) understand the racism in Christie’s novel, since the modern viewer may not think the casual intra-European racism is as harmful as it is. Branagh included a black character and some not-so-covert racism by another character so the modern reader could understand the subtle damage Christie was doing in her own work. Christie has been accused of racism before, (see her top ten moments here) and some reviewers had some comments about how the film dealt with it. In an age where we out predators, racists, misogynists, and various other aggressors in our society, lets not forget to be critical of even those who write damn good books.

Further reading:

Murder on the Orient Express Is Agatha Christie Minus the Racism

Yes, It Still Hurts to Read Racist Depictions in an Otherwise Good Book

The Queen of Crime

Agatha Christie’s Autobiography

What’s your favorite Agatha Christie novel? What do you love about her? How do we deal with problematic authors in this modern age?

    Author: Agatha Christie To celebrate the release of Kenneth Branagh's Murder on the Orient Express, and to kick off my Author Tuesdays, let's talk about Agatha Christie!