Detective Dreamnotfound \\ dnf

Chapter 1 - Tea with Mr Davidson

January the 19th, 1989

Dream twirled his pen around his fingers absentmindedly.

His gaze lingered among the people. His eyes darted off them like a rubber band.

He was anxious to meet his new secretary that Afternoon. None of his secretary's had even been very good . Half of them had been to frightened of dream to stay. One had died, and the rest had been the most useless things dream had ever worked with.

Not that dream was a bad person of course. He merely worked with his secretary's differently then any other detective did with theirs. Working on a case was hard, and he had never met someone that was quite up for the job.

Tomorrow he would need too cross the ferry to Poland, where a bank robbery had taken place. He would need someone to accompany him, according to his manager.

"Are you sure I need someone sir? After all, I can look after myself."

The tall bulky man with a sharp slick of brown hair narrowed his eyes at dream. "Of course you do." He sighed impatiently." Last time you traveled alone you were nearly shot."

"Yes but that was different!" Dream complained. "Last time I new that there was an agent on board, and besides! I managed to get away fine!"

"I will not risk you getting shot at again. The man growled. "Listen clay-"

"Dream." he hissed uncomfortably.

"Listen dream, the man we're sending for you is supposed to be very high up in his business. He won't be pathetic like the others."

Dream opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Alright." He huffed, defeated. "Where am I to find him?"

And that I suppose is why dream is sitting in Rose's coffee shop, waiting for this so called George to arrive.

~~~~~~

the waitress came by and handed dream his coffee.
"Thankyou." He mumbled. He glared at it.

At the other end of the shop, a door swung open.

It was a man. He was short, shorter than dream was, with a mop of lovely dark hair. His brown eyes looked distracted as he entered.

The man whipped his head around the shop. He was obviously searching for something and soon dream realised what is was.

Before he knew it, the man's black shoes had made its way over to dreams table.

"Excuse me?" The man asked. "Do you happen to be Clay?"

The mans accent was not the familiar American accent that dream new. It was quieter sort of, and the syllables didn't drag behind his words.

Dream stared up at him, perplexed. "Well, uhm, yes I suppose that is me."

"Excellent!" The man cried. And he slumped down into the chair beside Dream.

Dream raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"George" The man smiled. "George Davidson. I suppose you have be informed of me?"

"Yes, yes of course. But your weren't what I-" Dream cut himself off.

"Was I not what you where expecting?" George blushed.

"No, no of course not." Dream stared at his shoes in embarrassment.

"It's alright." George sighed. "Nobody really expects me."

An uncomfortable silence came next.

"So," George said, breaking the silence, "the bank robbery in Poland, what do we know?"

"Well the robbers, must have left through the left exit! There was no possible way that they could have climbed through the ladders and passed all those people without being spotted."
The words had tumbled out of Dream's mouth without he could stop himself. Solving crime of course, was what he was good at.

~~~~~

For the next couple of hours the two men discussed the case of the robbery.

"No, if our theory is correct we'll have to be there on the spot to search the lobby. We definitely can't trust anyone to do it themselves." Dream's notebook was sprawled across  the table, and multiple sheets of paper had landed on the floor.

"But then there's the door opener. How did they get hold of it? And where is it now?" George asked, slumping back down into the back of his chair.

"That is something we'll need to look into. But for now I think we might be correct." Dream promoted.

George sighed. "Shall I get us tea?"

"Tea?" Dream asked. "You British are wierd."

"I never mentioned I was British" George scoffed.

"I'm not stupid enough not to realise" dream smirked back at him.

George gave him a look and turned away to back his papers and documents away.

"So, what's in like in Britain?" Dream had never gone there before. He had never needed to.

George looked up. "Cold, and pretty miserable. It's quite the opposite here in America though."

"Honestly, it can be cold here. It's just rare."

George laughed. "Imagine, cold weather being rare. Never heard anyone in Britain say that in my life."

~~~~~

It was peaceful that afternoon. Dream hadn't hadn't been this happy for a while. It was nice to be with someone that wasn't his family, or murderers at an interview.

See, Dream didn't have time for friends. With being a world famous detective and all. It was hard to fit friends into his already chaotic life.
Maybe that's why he enjoyed talking to George that much that afternoon.

Dream sipped his tea. George had persuaded him to try some eventually, and secretly it had turned out rather nice.

In the corner of a room was a bunch of giggling women, clutching their purses and whispering excitedly and the sight of him.

He scoffed to himself and looked away.

"Well I should probably be going. My hotel room is waiting for me." George stood up again and went to pick up his suitcase.

"Oh, right, yes of course." Dream said blankly. He had been so happy with him that he had completely forgotten that he had somewhere to be.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Clay." George smiled at him and held out his hand.

"You mean dream" he said as he took his hand.

And then, with one last wave George pushed the door open, and walked out of Rose's coffee shop.