Yves had been somewhat nervous about coming today. The message seeping with an undertone he couldn't quite taste in the main transmission hub had been sent a while ago. Putting off the meeting had only worked for so long; there were only so many places on Dijon or Gap to hide and only so many false, invalid criminals to chase after. He finally had to face her.
The message of course had been very public, just the way Laroux had always intended it to be. The embarassment, as if being called to the headmaster's office - the other officers chortled in the shadowy halls. Even if Yves was a Lieutenant, so long as he was in the palm of Eveline his rank meant little.
He blamed himself. He never should have taken her lunch and ransomed it off. She never knew of course, but upsetting that delicate, chemical clockwork of hers had set her on a rampage. It didn't help that he'd eloped with Joseph and was the fundamental cause of her new responsibility, but she needn't know that for now.
He quietly slunk into her office, sliding through the narrowest gap he could manage as he opened the vintage door with opaque glass, a dim, softly yellow light illuminating the hall through the blur of the window. Yves pressed the door shut with his back against it, ready to defend himself from anything that may come hurling through the air.
Alas she was not there, he quietly sighed a thought away and proceded to inspect the room. A smile happened across the span of his cheeks. The same smile that led him to this room. The same smile that would lead him away.
He calmly, almost sensually sat down in her deskchair and placed one leg across his knee, embracing the armrests and staring sinisterly at the door, a certain unkempt and unexplained power about him.
Footsteps echoed through the deserted corridor. A terrible crescendo indicating that the moment Yves had been dreading was inescapably approaching. Nonetheless, something seemed out of place. A noticeable difference in the cadence of those all too familiar steps; perhaps an unexpected sense of urgency, even fear. Indistinct yet perceptible all the same, particularly to the ears of an observant bystander; and observant he was, or so it would seem, for his deliberations were not unfounded.
Eveline marched down the empty hall confident in her solitude despite herself. After all the presence of others was a rare thing in the vicinity of her office. She liked it that way, such avoidance was a blessing to one whom usually despises the company of aforementioned others. Nevertheless it had nurtured in her a certain arrogant presumption of her own privacy, which usually would not matter, but who is to say that such would always remain the case?
She approached the door to her office, the faint outline of the word Commissaire still visible where the lettering had been removed as a result of her promotion. She had refused to move the new office of course, more comfortable in her own space. The traditional Directeur’s office was on the main floor at the heart of all activity in the station and the last place she wanted to spend her long work hours. In all likelihood she could not sever the unfounded connection between that place and the fate of her predecessors: Lucas Gerald, missing in action for nigh on a year now; and Thomas Fouquat, retired officially, dead in actuality.
She paused momentarily before entering. Something was amiss. The door was ajar. She had not left it like that and could only think of one man in Gallia with the balls to enter her office uninvited.
“Get out of my chair Yves.” She commanded, thundering through the door.
At once, Yves leapt out of the seat, his suit a blur in the dim office, his hair obscuring his face. He now delicately balanced on the head of the chair, on his hands, balanced and unwavering. Perhaps he had practiced before Eveline arrived.
He slowly lowered himself to the floor, his body straight and his technique indistinguishable from that of a trapeze artist. With the chair still in his grasp, he pulled it from under the desk and gestured for his directeur to sit.
"Obviously madame, this is important news if you made the effort to meet in your office instead of the broom cupboard."
Yves gently walked to the front of the desk, running a finger along the edge. He pulled his chair forward and lay his arms down neatly. The green desk lamp's yellow-tinged light illuminated the definition of his face as he drew forward towards Laroux.
"What do we need to discuss?"
Yves smiled, innocent of the truths that had yet to befall him and the many other officers.
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