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‘Ce Maudit Œuf’ was a little café in Paris, named by its founder and original owner during a particularly disastrous attempt at baking macarons, and having the name, as these things tend to do, stick. It lacked an outdoor area entirely, instead only having a door leading to a staircase, at the top of which the actual café was. Easily overlooked by casual passersby, the customers it did attract tended to return enough times for the place to stay in business, even going so far as to thrive.
The current owner had bought the place from the founder as she’d finally retired from the business, citing her age and exhaustion. The new owner was hardly a stranger – she’d been working in the café for quite a while beforehand. What she’d done before suddenly appearing as if out of nowhere in Paris, she never said – only that she’d had quite enough excitement for a while, thank you very much. Whatever it had been she’d done before, it had given her the ability to stop any would-be troublemaker in their tracks. After her ascension to the position of owner, there were rumours she taught her skills to her workers, intending to make sure the place remained safe even when she wasn’t there personally.
It might have seemed overkill with just the cash register to consider, but Ce Maudit Œuf held genuine valuables of interest: the original silverware from when the café was first founded was placed on the wall as decoration. It was genuine silver, which was the main reason it was no longer in use: too many complaints of burned fingers from spoons in hot drinks. The original owner had finally replaced the set with cheaper alternatives, huffing about the lack of taste of her customers. Rather than take them home, she had chosen to make a work of art out of them. Over time, the silverware had been tarnished dark from the lack of use, though the beautiful craftwork remained recognizable. Knowing where and who to sell the collection to could net a would-be thief a neat sum of money, though someone nicking the silverware for chump change in a moment of impulse was a far more likely risk. Thus the security measures.
On that day there was a huge heat wave in Paris, the kind people have one of two reactions to: either avoid venturing out of their air-conditioned homes and hotels, or go outside to enjoy the warmth and refuse, in turn, to go indoors when the holiday weather is so perfect. This should explain why, at the time, the café only had four tables occupied, each with two customers.
The first table held a pair of teenagers, a dog lying at their feet. They seemed to be locals on a break from school, talking animatedly in French. The girl had blonde hair in a ponytail while the boy had short red hair and large, round glasses. Both were wearing weather-appropriate, everyday clothing.
At the second table sat a pair of women from, by the sound of their accents, somewhere in the Americas. The blonde with braided hair, wearing a simple dress with a floral pattern, had her whole attention on her partner, who mostly returned it while occasionally having her eyes stray to the man sitting at the next table over. She had a dark complexion, kept her straight hair down, and wore a long, purple dress that looked far heavier and less appropriate for the heat than it actually was.
The man one of the ladies kept stealing furtive glances at wore an admittedly stylish (if out of place in this heat) suit along with a snazzy (if out of place indoors) pair of sunglasses. He was leaning on the back of his chair, looking quite relaxed, and listening to his companion excitedly explain something to him, occasionally nodding along or offering his own comments. The companion in question was a young woman with red hair wearing shorts and a light vest over her shirt – rather more appropriate wear for the weather.
On the other hand, the latest pair to arrive had not dressed for the weather any more than the man in the suit had. The English gentleman had opted to keep his tall top hat on indoors and had yet to divest himself of his coat, though he was quite happily enjoying his cup of tea. His partner was a small boy with blue clothes and a blue hat he’d similarly kept on his head, currently scarfing down a large pastry with enthusiasm.
When they had first arrived, the silverware had been in its place on the wall. No one had left the café after their arrival. This would prove to be relevant in but a moment, as the little boy in blue looked up and gasped. “Look Professor! The silverware – it’s gone!”
The loud exclamation got everyone’s attention, as every conversation stopped at once and all eyes moved first to the boy, then to the place on the wall where the silverware was supposed to be – and wasn’t. A clamour rose up, everyone having some comment or exclamation, but it was quickly cut through by the voice of the red-haired woman: “Everyone calm down!” A silence fell, broken only by her muttered, “Um, hang on…”
She was rifling through her vest, clearly looking for something. Her companion looked at her with a quizzical tilt of his head. “…Are you looking for your badge, Lynne? You left it at the station back home. You’re on holiday, remember?”
“Oh! Right.” She looked sheepish as she stopped looking for the badge in question, but rallied quickly. “Anyway- Detective Lynne, on the case! No one leaves the café until the culprit has been caught!”
“I don’t… think you’re allowed to do that here,” the red-haired boy hazarded, “The local police aren’t going to appreciate you taking over, if I know anything about them.”
“It’s not official!” Lynne rushed to assure him, “But someone has to take charge here, and I know the procedure best.” She nodded to herself, ignoring her partner’s slightly dubious expression.
Said partner spoke up, “I don’t know… maybe we should just call the cops here.” Still, he didn’t look particularly bothered either way.
“Aww… I wanted to solve the mystery,” the boy in blue said dejectedly, visibly wilting.
The blonde American turned to him curiously. “And who might you be?”
The boy perked up, proudly announcing, “Luke Triton, Professor Layton’s number one apprentice!”
“Now now, Luke. It’s hardly gentlemanly to obstruct justice, even if it means giving up on a puzzle.” The man everyone present now understood must be the Professor Layton himself paused for only a second before continuing, “Though I must admit to some intrigue myself…”
The pair of locals had been quietly convening with each other. Now, the girl stepped forward. “Actually, this does feel kind of exciting. Surely there could be no harm in trying to solve this case ourselves first?” She looked around at the people present with a hopeful smile.
The darker of the pair of women gave a heavy sigh. “It would hardly be the first time…” The long-suffering look she shared with her partner spoke volumes.
“But you’re not objecting?” the as of yet unnamed boy asked.
“I’m not!” Luke piped up eagerly from where he was bouncing on his seat. Professor Layton chuckled slightly with a shake of his head.
“Me neither!” Lynne added quickly.
The woman waved a hand. “No, no, go ahead. Should be entertaining, if nothing else.” She looked at her partner in question.
“Ah- Might as well,” she said before taking a moment to really consider it. “Might actually be faster than waitin’ for the cops to get here…”
The man in sunglasses had quickly gone back to his relaxed position on his chair. Now, he leaned back even further. “Guess we’re solving this, then, after all.” Lynne grinned at him in answer.
“It would seem we have reached an agreement, then,” Professor Layton stated with a smile. “Perhaps we should begin this investigation by introducing ourselves. I am Hershel Layton, professor of archaeology in Gressenheller University.” Also a famed solver of puzzles and mysteries everywhere, though he modestly left that out of his introduction.
“And I’m his apprentice, Luke!” Luke couldn’t help but add despite having already said so earlier.
“I’m Sissel,” said the man, “I’m here with Lynne.” He made a lazy gesture somewhere between a salute and a wave. Lynne nodded in confirmation of his claim.
“Sissel, huh. That’s kind of a feminine name, ain’t it?” the blonde woman mused.
Sissel shrugged. “I guess. But it’s been my name for as long as I remember, and I’ve never felt like changing it.”
“Ah, fair enough, fair enough!” The woman looked slightly flustered, but soon moved on to her part of the introductions, “This here’s my friend, Willow,” the other woman nodded in acknowledgment, “and as for myself, the name’s Tequila.”
The locals looked up sharply upon hearing her uncommon name. The girl gasped, her eyes going wide. “Tequila? Surely… Surely not Tequila Belle, the world-famous singer?” The boy looked just as interested in her answer – as did Luke, who must have heard of her as well.
Tequila chuckled bashfully in response. “Well, I was hopin’ not to have a big production made of it – but yeah, that’s me.”
“Wow!” Luke exclaimed before remembering himself and sitting down in an attempt to act like a proper gentleman.
Layton seemed amused by this. He was keeping his head rather more level than his apprentice, though it was clear he, too, had heard of the singer in question. “It is certainly an honour to meet such an esteemed performer,” he said.
“Right, that!” Luke nodded enthusiastically. Sissel was looking like he didn’t quite get what all the fuss was, but was willing to go along with it anyway.
Tequila fanned her face. “Aw shucks, you’re makin’ me blush! It’s the result of a lot of work, I assure you… What about you?” she asked the girl, “Do you sing?”
She looked a little startled at being addressed this way, but quickly answered, “Oh, not really – but I play the violin! I hope to be good enough to play professionally some day… Oh! And my name’s Marie,” she remembered to add at the last minute.
The boy adjusted his glasses. “Right. That leaves me. I’m Raphael, and this is Fondue.” He indicated the dog with him before clearly thinking of something and turning to it. “You didn’t happen to see who it was, did you boy?” Fondue whined, making Raphael frown slightly. “Guess not. Oh well.”
“A shame,” Willow commented, “I can’t speak for living canines, but the spirits of dogs are rather more… consistently reliable than humans.” She slightly adjusted her skirt with a nonchalant look.
Tequila snorted with a fond, “Really, Willow?” and a shake of her head.
Sissel, meanwhile, was nodding along. “Absolutely. Humans and cats can be very selfish, but you can always trust a dog to do what’s right by his master.”
Willow turned a sharp gaze on him. “Oh? You’re familiar with the lingering departed, then?” Despite her narrowed eyes, her tone remained conversational and pleasant.
Sissel grinned over the rim of his cup. Said cup may have contained traces of either coffee or tea, but it was impossible to tell which when it had been so thoroughly drowned in cream. “That’s one way of putting it, definitely.” He said nothing more.
Luke shivered. “Uh, you don’t think there’s any ghosts here, do you?” He glanced around worriedly.
“Only what we’ve brought with us,” Willow muttered, still watching Sissel, before refocusing. “If I had my candles I could check. One willing to talk might well be the key to solving this case…” Then, seemingly taking pity on the boy, she added, “No, I don’t think there are unseen spirits here. The atmosphere isn’t right for them.”
“Oh, well, that’s good?” Luke said, looking more uncertain than relieved.
Professor Layton laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, Luke. I wouldn’t have thought you still worried of such things after everything we’ve seen. Ghosts are hardly anything to fear!”
Luke blushed and mumbled, “I guess…”
Willow agreed, “He’s right. Some can definitely be unpleasant, but so can the living. And the living are generally far more capable of acting on their malice.”
“…Generally.” Sissel made a face at his cup before taking a long drink from it.
“Anyway!” Lynne said loudly, “We’re getting further and further from solving the crime on our hands!” She looked around herself with crossed arms, clearly trying to seem strict but not quite succeeding at it. Her bubbly optimism was simply too strong to be contained.
“Right!” Luke quickly rallied, his eagerness to solve the latest mystery pushing any lingering thoughts of ghosts from his mind.
Lynne looked thoughtful. “First things first… we should lock up the crime scene.” She nodded decisively. “We can’t have the thief try and run away once we catch them!”
“Hmm. I may have a solution for that.” Professor Layton got up from his seat, walked over to the door, and placed a lock on it. “A puzzle lock,” he explained, “Brand new. I have yet to have the chance to solve it, so you don’t have to worry about me already knowing the solution.”
“Instead we can worry about not being able to get out again,” Sissel quipped, clearly unworried over this actually being the case.
“Is it a rhythm-based puzzle lock?” Raphael asked, looking interested.
Layton returned to his table. “I cannot say. But I can’t wait to find out!” His eyes practically shone at the prospect.
Lynne inspected the lock before straightening up, satisfied. “Good! Now we can get to actually apprehending the thief.”
“So, do we have any suspects?” Marie wondered. She looked very much like she was putting on a brave face, but it wasn’t quite enough to hide her underlying uncertainty.
“Everyone is a suspect!” Lynne proclaimed in answer, much to Sissel’s amusement.
The girl shook her head. “I meant, more specifically? Any ideas?” She took a brief sip from her teacup, looking alert.
“Well… Ain’t there that famous art thief on the loose here in Paris? The one who’s broken into the Louvre multiple times now and never been caught?” Tequila pointed out, sounding quite excited at the thought.
Lynne thought it over. “You mean Phantom R? I don’t know… It’d be kind of a downgrade from his usual heists, wouldn’t it?”
Layton half-closed his eyes with a thoughtful hum, but it was Raphael who responded, “It also just doesn’t sound like him at all. There hasn’t even been a warning note, has there?”
There was a moment of silence, eventually broken by Lynne, “I don’t think so?”
Luke crossed his arms and closed his eyes. “Maybe there hasn’t been… but maybe that’s just to throw us off your tracks, Phantom R!” He swivelled to point at Raphael with a challenging stare.
“Wha- me?” The boy blinked in surprise before adjusting his glasses in a gesture that may or may not have been nervous. Confirmation bias and all that.
“Raphael?!” Marie exclaimed, “But how could it possibly be Raphael?” Her eyes widened in a way that made her look the very picture of innocence. “There’s no way Raphael’s Phantom R – I’d surely know if he was!”
Just then, Tequila broke into giggles, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she waved her new audience off, “Just… been seein’ that expression since I was a girl.” As the others turned back to the immediate drama in front of them, she caught Marie’s eye and mouthed You ain’t foolin’ me, darlin’ at her with a mischievous grin and a wink. Marie looked uncertain how to take it, finally opting to ignore it in favour of defending her friend.
Raphael had benefited from the brief distraction, having managed to calm down at least outwardly. Now, he raised his eyebrows at Luke and said, sounding irate, “So, are you accusing me of being Phantom R because Marie and I are the only ones present who actually live here? Because, I’m not sure if you know, but Paris is full of people who could be Phantom R.”
As Luke shook his head in denial, Professor Layton added, “Furthermore, even if he were Phantom R, we can hardly take that as an assumption of guilt in this particular case.”
“He’s only ever gone after artworks in the Louvre, as far as I know,” Marie contributed, “And returned them, so it can’t be about money with him.”
Lynne nodded in agreement. “They’ve looked deeply into the ones he’s returned – they’re all real, not a single forgery.”
Luke looked uncertain. “Well… I guess,” he finally admitted. “You’re still Phantom R, though. Your dog gave you away.”
Raphael sighed and launched into a clearly well-practised rant, “Look, I know Alsatian Cheesehund isn’t the most common breed around, but that doesn’t mean-”
“No, I mean he admitted it. You’re Phantom R,” Luke clarified.
“Luke can talk to animals,” Layton explained with a fond smile before taking a sip from his teacup.
Raphael looked around at the others in disbelief. “And you all just… believe this?”
Willow shrugged. “It’s hardly the weirdest thing I’ve heard,” she said, Tequila agreeing with her.
“There’s precedent on taking witness statements from animals,” Lynne declared with certainty.
“Why not?” Sissel said, looking on the verge of toppling over with his chair yet miraculously remaining just barely balanced.
Raphael took a deep breath, looking like he was trying very hard to stay calm, before saying, “All right, so, assuming you were right, and I was in fact Phantom R – which I’m not admitting to being the case, I’ll have you know – would you really let the police arrest me over this? For having tea with my friend at the wrong time and place?” Said friend had reached out to hold his hand under the table, which did seem to make him feel better, if nothing else. His other hand reached down to pet Fondue, who’d gone quiet at Luke’s outburst and had yet to go back to his usual chipper self.
“Well…” Luke thought it over, concluding with, “Probably not?”
After a beat, Lynne admitted, “We don’t really have the evidence for an arrest, anyway.”
“Or the authority,” Sissel couldn’t help but add.
Tequila looked deeply amused by the whole thing. “With the company we keep? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Willow shook her head. “The far bigger risk from us would be accidentally letting it slip to the Marquis who to start hounding with invitations… And no, we’re not telling him, either.”
Raphael blinked. “Invitations?”
Most of the others looked to have no more of an idea of what they were talking about with the exception of Professor Layton, who spoke up in response, “Ah, yes. The elusive invitations to the Sexy Brutale’s exclusive yearly ball. Mine have been quite the intricate puzzles in their own right. Unfortunately, something has always come up that has kept me from accepting, but perhaps one year…” His eyes acquired a far-away look, though it cleared quickly.
“You’ve gotten invitations too, Professor?” Marie asked politely, grateful for the change in topic. It did seem to work, Luke’s attention immediately shifting over to his mentor.
Willow sighed in exasperation. “He would. Oh, would he ever. And then go on to make an absolute production of the whole thing. A massive mystery he’s been working on all year long…” She finished her coffee before returning the cup to the saucer with a shudder.
Tequila continued with enthusiasm, “Multiple years now, if he hasn’t gotten the professor to attend yet!”
“That sounds super interesting,” Luke commented.
Willow exchanged looks with Tequila. “I can’t say you’re wrong. The Marquis’s parties are definitely interesting… some might say too interesting. He doesn’t do things by half-measures.” And yet, for all the pair’s theatrics over the impossibility of the man, both seemed to hold no small measure of affection for him and his antics – a fact that didn’t escape the professor’s notice.
He hummed before concluding, “Well, I do suppose that’s something to look forward to, then.”
“Speaking of the Marquis – I recognize you now.” Lynne pointed at Willow. “Willow Blue, well known for procuring items of interest to the Marquis. Could it be that the silverware was too attractive to resist?”
“Oh please!” Willow laughed. “As if I’d ever need to steal for him! If the Marquis wants something, he’s more than able to throw as much money into it as he needs to to get it.”
Tequila shook her head, muttering, “Even if it ain’t always the smartest thing to do.”
“Are you sure?” Marie asked before adding, “There are things I wouldn’t give away for any amount of money.” Raphael nodded in agreement.
Professor Layton said, “Very true,” lifting a hand to lightly hold his hat.
“I’ll admit you have a point,” Willow said with a nod, then continued more seriously, “But honestly, the silverware wouldn’t be much to his taste, anyway. Rather mundane, no voodoo curses or unsolved mysteries in sight.”
“In other words, dreadfully boring,” Tequila added with a smile and a laugh.
Lynne considered this. “I suppose that makes sense.” She was about to continue before looking up and having her thoughts derailed. “Sissel! No!”
Sissel was at the counter with his now empty cup, the cream jug in his hand. At Lynne’s shout, he turned to her with a deadpan expression. “You buy a cup of coffee or tea, you get to add as much milk and sugar and cream as you want. That’s how it works.”
“It- it really doesn’t! Get back here right now-” Lynne’s words cut off in a strangled sound of despair as Sissel, facing Lynne the whole time, topped up his cup with cream. “Sissel…!”
Sissel drank from his cup. “What? It’s good.” He returned to his seat with a lazy saunter, happily ignoring Lynne dramatically if briefly covering her face with her hands.
“Now that I think about it…” Raphael said, eyes narrowed, “Do we even know you are who you say you are? You claimed to be looking for your badge, but that could have been a lie to throw the rest of us off your tracks. Maybe you’re the thieves trying to frame someone else!” Quite a few of the others looked to be seriously considering the point he’d made.
Sissel tilted his head, looking more entertained than anything. “He’s got a point there, Lynne.”
“Sissel!” Lynne shot a disapproving look at him before addressing Raphael directly, “Look, I’ve got nothing to hide. I could prove my identity the moment we got to the station – but we’d have to get the police involved for that.”
Raphael sighed. “Which is what we’re trying to avoid here, yes.” Which was as good as admitting defeat on his part.
“So, what about you, Sissel? Are you law enforcement too?” Marie inquired of the strange, cream-loving man.
“Oh, I’m not an officer of the law. I’m just Lynne’s friend,” Sissel said with a wave of his hand.
“And you wouldn’t cover for a criminal, would you?” Willow asked innocently, ignoring the way Raphael choked on his drink.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lynne stated, also ignoring Raphael’s coughing fit and Marie patting his back, “And I trust Sissel. He wouldn’t go around stealing people’s valuables.”
“Hmm. I suppose that’s good enough for now.” Luke glanced at Layton and, when the man didn’t disagree with him, nodded more certainly.
With the matter closed, Sissel once again leaned on his chair’s backrest. “So, who haven’t we grilled yet? Tequila?” It was said flippantly, yet a moment’s thought revealed they didn’t exactly have better ideas for proceeding at the moment.
Marie brought up uncertainly, “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time a celebrity ran out of money to maintain their luxurious lifestyle…” She sounded very much like she didn’t want to believe it of Tequila, but brought up the possibility regardless.
Willow laughed incredulously in response. “Tequila? You must not know her well if you suspect her of that. Honestly, I’ve met no one more honest and straightforward than her. She wouldn’t dream of taking anything that wasn’t hers-”
“Actually,” Tequila interrupted her, “there was last year’s Brutale party…”
Willow looked scandalised. “Tequila! I can’t believe you! First – you can’t just say that! What happens in the Brutale stays in the Brutale. Second – it was you?!”
Tequila made to explain to those out of the loop, “The Marquis made a challenge – typical of him, really. Don’t think he was aimin’ it at me, but,” she shrugged, grinning, “I could hardly resist. Just the once, mind.”
“I can hardly believe this. Just when you think you know a person… Really, Tequila, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Willow was shaking her head, her eyes wide.
“…So, do you have an actual defence, or…?” Luke wondered.
Tequila waved him off. “Oh, I’ve no need for money now, and if I did, I’ve plenty of friends I could ask first!”
“I can believe that,” Marie stated, getting no objections.
Lynne followed that up with what most of them were thinking, “Which leaves us with…”
There was a moment of meaningful silence as all eyes turned to the table of Layton and Luke. Then, Luke noticed. “Whaat?” He looked around at everyone’s faces, seeking some sign they were kidding. “Bu-but it’s Professor Layton! You can’t be serious! He would never-!”
Layton, by contrast, remained unruffled. He drank the rest of his tea, placing the cup on the saucer with a clink before saying, “Ah, but you can’t know that for certain, can you? Perhaps I am merely an imposter claiming to be Professor Layton to throw off suspicion.”
“But I know you’re Professor Layton!” Luke exclaimed. It sounded like his world had fallen off its axis, and he was desperate for things to make sense again.
Layton nodded in agreement. “Yes, but you could be an accomplice in on the whole thing. Or,” he continued before Luke could get in another word edgewise, “I could be someone who knows Professor Layton personally. Someone who knows him well enough to fool even you, my boy.” At the boy’s stricken expression, he continued more softly, “I’m speaking purely hypothetically, of course. I am, in fact, Professor Hershel Layton – and I do believe I can shed some light on this mystery. Hopefully it will serve as enough proof for your satisfaction.”
Professor Layton got up to pace the room, everyone else staring at him with rapt attention. “It is true that at the time of the disappearance of the silverware the only customers in the café were the eight of us. It is also true that there is no way for anyone to have arrived or left without being noticed. However, there is one other person within this café. One person we have all ignored thus far. And that person… is you!” He pointed his finger at the café worker right as she stepped out of the kitchen.
She blinked in surprise before breaking out into a laugh. “Oh… You got me! Haha!”
“So, it was you?” Marie exclaimed loudly enough to drown out the other reactions before looking mortified at her outburst.
“Huh. Can’t say I saw this coming,” Sissel mused to himself.
“You noticed the silverware isn’t where it’s supposed to be, right?” The girl clarified before explaining, “Well, I figured I’d clean up all that dark silver and make it gleam again, and then I had to do it immediately or I’d forget. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea…” She looked like the thought had only just now occurred to her.
Luke looked utterly bewildered by this turn of events. “But, where’s the silverware?”
“In the kitchen, of course! I think it’s ready to be displayed again, actually – hold on a moment, I’ll go get it!” She bustled into the kitchen, leaving behind a group of highly confused customers. Soon enough she returned with a tub full of silverware, bright and shiny.
Marie scrutinised the silverware with a critical eye before nodding. “Those do look right,” she said with the certainty of a repeat customer – someone who’d been to the café enough times to remember what the silverware looked like.
“Is that the real silverware, though?” Raphael brought up.
Luke picked up on his thoughts quickly. “Right! It could be a forgery!”
“If I may? I don’t need my candles for everything.” Willow stepped forward, carefully laying her hands on the silverware and closing her eyes. For a moment, she hummed in concentration, then said, “This silverware… it has a history. A forgery wouldn’t have this weight.” She nodded decisively, opening her eyes and stepping back.
“I can confirm there’s nothing like it in the kitchen, either.” Sissel adjusted his sunglasses with a smirk. He must have checked very quietly while everyone else’s attention was on the girl and the silverware.
“Well, I guess that’s as conclusive evidence as we’re going to get,” Lynne said, getting an agreeing nod from Professor Layton.
“I’ll put the silverware back in its place, then!” The worker proceeded to do just that, moving with a speed and certainty that spoke of having memorized the layout and only needing to follow it. Soon enough, the silverware was back in its place, an artistic formation enhanced by the newly returned gleam of the silver.
Tequila smiled, looking appreciative. “That does look very pretty. Even putting everything else aside, I fear the artistry of it would go to waste elsewhere.” There was much agreeing from the others around her.
Finally, Lynne concluded, “That’s it, then. We’re done here.”
Marie smiled and added, “And there was no need to get the police involved, after all!”
“Indeed, that’s another mystery solved. Now, why don’t we take a look at that puzzle lock?” Layton moved over to the door to do just that, followed by a curious Raphael. Sissel watched them from where he was lounging on his chair, mysteriously filled cup of cream in hand.
The rest of the group was left staring after the café worker, who acted like nothing weird at all had happened. As she returned to the kitchen with the now empty cream jug in her hands, Willow shook her head. “Odd girl,” she commented.
“I agree,” Marie said with a giggle.
Luke looked… well, puzzled. “Me too,” he stated vehemently.