Charitable Deeds

Damnit, Layton

"Well, he is still concerned about those events that happened around 6 years ago. Don't let his bluntness get to you."

"You are kind, Professor-" Charity had started, but Layton cut her off.

"You can call me Hershel. We've gotten past the point where we must speak to each other in formalities."

Charity laughed. "I suppose, Hershel. I just don't understand why you are being so kind to me. You barely even know me!"

"Well isn't it obvious?" Layton answered with a chuckle. "Helping a lady through her trouble is the duty of a true gentleman."

"I suppose so," Charity replied. She sat at the table, not touching the tea. She was too deep in thought.

"Hershel, might I ask you a few things?"

"Of course dear," Layton answered, taken aback by the suddenness of her words.

"Ok first thing," Charity said, "please don't call me dear. Nothing against you, it just feels weird. Second, I understand you and Desmond are related in some way. Why is it that whenever you pass each other in the halls, it's as if you don't know each other? What is it exactly about a mask that seems to unsettle him so much?"

Layton paused for a moment, thinking how best to answer.

"We..." Layton started, but then decided to say the truth. "When we pass by each other, or come into contact with one another, it was at Desmond's request that we don't act like siblings. There are many things that Desmond does not wish to recall, and I respect his wishes. As for the mask, it is not my story to tell. I believe he fears what he once was, yet is unable to alleviate his feelings of guilt and responsibility for what he had done."

Charity took a moment to think about what she had learned, and then stood up.

"Thank you for your generosity, Hershel," She said, moving towards the guest room. "I must go to bed. I am extremely tired."

The Professor wished her a good night, and Charity got into bed. Sleep would be a long time coming for her that night...

🥀🥀🥀

Desmond couldn't sleep. His mind was stuck on the thought of the lady who had come into his office. She had apparently been sent by the Professor. Why Layton was trying to interfere with Desmond's life, using a woman no less, he had no idea.

Screw it, he thought to himself as he got out of bed. He looked through his things before finding the familiar feathered boa he would wear as Descole. He held it in his hands, feeling the soft texture of the feathers. He was just about to put it away again, when he was startled by a knock at the door. He dropped the boa and quickly went to the door.

"It's 11 pm and I'm trying to sleep!" Desmond said, opening the door. "Who is it this time?"

"My apologies Desmond, I didn't know you still slept wearing your feather boa." It was Layton.

"How did you know I-" but he looked down and realized he had tiny feather pieces all over his top. "Ah. So I see. Why are you here, Layton? Come to remind me of my failures in the past?"

"Now now Desmond," the other Professor said, "is that any way to treat family?"

"Fine," Desmond said, reluctantly, letting his brother inside.

"For all your talk of moving on from your past, you are acting more like Jean than Desmond."

"Always with the uncomfortable truths, Eh Layton?" But there was no bitterness in his voice. He knew he was slipping into old habits again. It wouldn't be long, he thought, before he would be putting on his mask and trying to kill the other Professor again. That thought sent a shiver down his spine.