𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐕𝐈𝐈

"Yeah, I know Ivan is usually three sheets to the wind," the Sheriff, sitting at his brown wooden desk in his office in his large black leather chair, was speaking into his black telephone while holding up a small pickle from his white paper lunch plate in front of his wrinkled face. The plate contained a small, dry looking open footlong.

The hand holding up the pickle had a simple, black strapped watch, with a round face. The pale light from the large yellow, rectangular lamp behind her shone on his pale hand.

This was a rare time when his wide-brimmed hat was missing from his head and his dark coat was hanging on a hook on the wall, beneath a large American flag- a patriotic gesture.

A man walked past her office, seen through the open blinds on the large windows behind him. On the wall beside him, there contained the whole collection of criminal files, in their respective compartments, like letters waiting to be taken out of mailboxes.

"but he keeps calling the mayor" the man picks up another pickle and holds it up to his thin, pale face. His footlong lay almost uneaten on his white, paper plate. The man was clearly too stressed to have an appetite. "and he's BS-ing that there's lights on at the old Gates place." he glances quickly at his watch. "So do a drive-by, make sure there's no squatters." the man orders, as he holds up another small pickle.

He was so busy giving instructions to the person on the other side that she didn't notice a tall, pale, emotionless boy stalk into his office. The aura surrounding him was dark and cold. Behind him trailed a shorter young girl, with long, silky black waist-length hair and large shining golden eyes.

Saturday, in his black, grey and white school uniform coldly stands in front of the Sheriff's desk, and the man looks up at him. He slams the black telephone back onto its base, as the lean, black haired, obsidian eyed boy slams two plastic ziplock bags down on his desk in front of him with both his large pale hands. His petite maid stood off to his side.

In one bag was a white cloth stained with Xaviera's blood and in the other was the claw of the monster the three of them (Saturday, Misaki and Eugene) discovered in that mysterious cave.

"That's the claw of the monster and that's a dried blood sample from a potential suspect." says Saturday nonchalantly and coldly. "She used it to dab scratches on her neck."

The grey haired man looks down at the two quarantined items, then back up into the deadly pale face of the lean boy. He glares at the little beauty in the corner and she bows her head at the Sheriff.

"I see you've brought your girlfriend."

Saturday could have strangled the thin man in his own office. His large pale hands clenched into rock hard fists at his sides. He fought the urge to cross his lean arms across his broad chest in an act of defiance. It was hard to deal with the finicky man as is. Misaki wanted to sink into the realistic stuffed buck in the corner.