Chapter Text
Turnabout Clean Sweep
“So, Princess.” Worn black leather boots swing up over the top of a beautifully decorated Khura’inese desk as a man with spiky blond hair kicks back to relax. “Your little inquiry is puttin’ Interpol through some kind of unique hell.”
“I’m not a princess today. Would you remove your feet from my desk?”
“What would ya prefer to be called?”
“Your Excellence would suffice.”
A smirk. “Are you not even a little curious how thoroughly you’ve screwed me over, Princex?”
“Maybe. Based on your manners, I imagine you deserved it.”
The man chuckles. “Lang Zi says: the one with answers doesn’t need manners. Anyway, the point is that the little boy you’re looking for isn’t just alive…” His legs retreat, as does the humor in his eyes. “... But he’s a professional conman. And nobody got swept into his act more than Interpol.”
“Nobody? Not even his family, who firmly believes he died a horrific death?”
“Depends.” He leans forward. “How much money did he steal from his family?”