Gestalt

Anniversary

The giver fluffed the perfectly shiny ribbons that decorated his gift. It was perfect, though it had taken some doing. The giver giggled. It was a terrible habit brought on by years of devious mirth which could not be expressed by chortle, chuckle or a simple manic laugh.

Not that such a thing really bothered Lupin. If anything, that very expression had sent more than one of his enemies off the deep end, and of course even more importantly, it made his favorite cop angry. One had to admit, Pops was cute when he was angry. Stomping about, bellowing profanities, chewing or otherwise demolishing his hat in expression of pure rage. All for Lupin.

The thief sighed. Traditionally, he was supposed to return something he had stolen on the cop's watch, just as a reminder he could take and leave whatever he pleased. He had liked that tradition for about ten or so years. However, after a decade of being relentlessly pursed across oceans, continents, countries safe and dangerous alike, a soft spot had been beaten into the thief's heart.

I mean, propriety was all well and good, but you had to respect a guy who seemed to thrive on the hunt. Or be a little flattered. The latter may have been what caused Lupin's conceit for law enforcement to turn to affection... if slightly condescending affection. It may have been that affection that caused a pack of cigarettes, not a diamond necklace appear on the weary cop's desk five years ago.

Or it may well have been the desire to see the look on the cop's face when he read the note from Lupin. The seething rage, and the deliberation over whether to accept the expensive and much coveted import cigarettes. The thief couldn't help but to giggle again as he remembered the scene, having promised himself since that he would carry a camera for such occasions.

The giver now was very serious, because he was entering a lion's den... or more precisely, a cop's den. ICPO headquarters in France was where Zenigata could be found when not on Lupin's trail. It sent a thrill through him to pass all of these cops by, even though he was in disguise. He jogged merrily up the stairs, and down a long hallway. He stifled an errant giggle when he reached his cop's office.

For all that Pops had a difficult time catching Lupin, he had an uncanny sense of the thief's presence. Even in the most careful disguise, if he was careless in manner, his cop would catch him in a flash. The old man's intuition was uncanny.

So one could imagine his disappointment upon finding not his sen shaped policeman, but an empty office. The thief let out a puff of air. The room was dark and cold, obviously not in use.

How boring!

Not forgetting to close the door, he stalked over to the desk. Setting down his prized gift on the desk, the giver then began rummaging for a pencil or pen. Something so he could express his annoyance to the receiver. To be missing on our anniversary... pah! The cop knew better.

"I know you have no life, Pops... So where are you?"

Blast it all, didn't the old man have a pen? The thief rifled through drawer after drawer, tossing ramen cups spoons and half finished notes aside, never finding the object of his desire. Until, he opened one of the larger drawers, and stopped.

He ought to have, for there, in large, blocky, unimaginative handwriting was his name. A chill ran up and down the thief's spine, as his hand reached out automatically to pick up the note, and the parcel attached. One hand deftly flipping open the card, while the other reached for his P38. He also tried to keep an eye on the door, but it was difficult to do while reading.

{Because you never want the bracelets}
~Zenigata

The thing in question, was a heavy rectangular box, wrapped in newspaper, with a string. The thief's eyes darted between the door, his only escape, and the parcel. The lettering was plain, and the note simple enough to be deceiving. Was he joking? Was he serious? A little heart, or a frowny face might have helped to enlighten the situation. Was his cop seriously reciprocating the tradition? Or had he finally gone off the deep end and decided to blow the thief to kingdom come?

Well... One last look at the door.

Maybe... If he just shook it a little. There was the sound of liquid, if ever faint and the thief could feel the balance changing.

"That's cheating."

The thief nearly hit the ceiling. Yet he clutched the wrapped prize as he landed on the other side of the desk. Cat like reflexes strike again. An unfamiliar silhouette moved in the dark. Lupin, wide-eyed, took aim. Then he remembered the parcel on the desk, and lowered his weapon, breathing heavily.

"What are you doing, hiding in the dark?!" The thief blurted, trying to regain some dignity.

"Having no life." Replied the old cop, who now leaned against his own desk. The filtered light from his office window barely highlighted Zenigata's features. Lupin had to admit, he hardly looked the same without the trench-coat and hat. The thief licked his lips, searching for a retort.

"You know what I meant." The words were a little sharper than intended. The cop shrugged, picking up his gift and flicking open the card.

"It's not my fault you were being careless," he said gruffly, as one would lecture a child. The inspector snorted, flicking the card aside and without much care, tore through the wrapping. Lupin, having put his pistol away, put a free hand on his side in slight annoyance. The note had been carefully worded, and the ribbons and wrapping were strategically aesthetic. It deserved a little more care than all that.

"The question is," The cop continued, still fussing through the tissue paper, "whether I let you get away with that carelessness." He gave Lupin a significant look, "Or have my men chase you all over hell for a couple hours."

"But you know I love being wanted," Lupin cooed, hoping to get a rise out of the cop.

"But you won't get to enjoy your present," the cop replied cooly. A small growling sound from the thief caused a smirk to tug at his lips. He loved having the upper hand, it happened so little. The smirk was wiped away when he saw his gift.

The khaki color of his trench-coat shown through the tissue. He unraveled it immediately, wanting to don it once again. He didn't feel the same without it. As soon as he slipped his right arm into its sleeve, he noticed the difference. His hand didn't catch on that knife hole near the elbow. He inspected it more closely. In fact, there was no such hole. The barest scar shown where it once was. It was the same for the collar that once looked as though dogs chewed it as a habit. His old companion had been repaired... expensively.

"Looks good," remarked the thief in that soft, charming voice he sometimes had. "But, I think you're still not complete, Pops."

Without being told, the cop reached out his hand. His fingers grasped the brim of his hat. This too had been repaired, the brim reset and lining replaced so that it was stiff again... and no longer resembled swiss cheese. He placed this where it belonged as well, feeling more and less like himself.

The thief bore a cocky smirk.

"No smokes this time," the cop's voice was gruff but had a hint of kind humor. The thief made a 'ch' sound, as he did when he was underestimated.

"Check the right pocket." The cop did, drawing the pack of Marlboros out with a resigned look.

"You're too much, Lupin" the cop sighed. This comment caused the thief to fairly beam, and he too tore into his present like a child opening an early christmas present. Lighting his favorite addiction, Zenigata could not suppress a smile upon hearing an appreciative whistle.

"Not bad, Pops." Lupin brandished the expensive liquor with pride. "I'll have to beat Jigen off with a stick."

"What you do with it is up to you," the cop's voice became stern suddenly. He took a drag off the cigarette, and puffed, regaining his righteous indignation. "Now, get the hell outta here."

"What?" Lupin feigned hurt. "No 'happy Anniversary'? No hug, kiss?"

"Absolutely not!" The inspector growled, face turning slightly red at the thief's impudence.

"So cold," Lupin sniffed, suppressing a giggle.

"The only place a thief has in this station," the cop pointed out, "is behind bars." Lupin gave an impish grin. The cop brandished a pair of shiny handcuffs.

"Unless you've decided you like the bracelets after all."

Lupin stuck out his tongue at his cop, before turning on his heels.

"Some other time then?" He called as the thief shut the door sharply behind him. With lupin gone, the cop sat back at his desk enjoying his import cigarette, and the feeling of his old coat hugging his shoulders. In the dark, the face which almost always was knitted in anger, or concentration softened a little.

In the dark, he was left to wonder why had he allowed it. Why had he allowed the thief... anything. He snubbed out this thought, as he put out the cigarette, shoving the marlboros back into his pocket. Tomorrow, he would catch Lupin, and these questions would plague him no longer.