Peter Nureyev's Pockets

There were many words that Juno Steel knew that started with a P.

"Pleasant" was one of them.

Nureyev's smile was not what he had expected to see when he came in. the man had been seated on his couch like a fox in a chicken yard waiting for the chickens to exit the coup. The smile he flashed Juno as he walked in was not unpleasant, all things considered, but Juno's feelings about and for the other man were conflicted to say the least.

"Perfume" was another word that started with a "P".

The stink hit him then. Even before Nureyev started talking, Juno could smell the stink of Nureyev's perfume. Olfactory memory triggered a series of images: a kiss, warm hands, the betrayal... But he had no choice. Tired and confused though he was, he was rushed out to Peter's hovercar and on the road before he knew it.

Of all the words that began with "P" that detective Steel knew, "Pulchritudinous" was one of the more obscure.

Seen in profile, through eyes forced half-shut for want of sleep, Nureyev wasn't unattractive. His sharp teeth were hidden by soft lips. His gaze was focused on the road, not wandering an inch toward Juno.

Not that he minded. Nureyev could look wherever the hell he wanted.

Juno's eyes wandered up to Nureyev's hair, instead. It was tousled, but not in an artsy way. Nureyev must have been playing with his hair as he waited for Juno to come home. Now that Juno was looking, he could see three little braids that Nureyev had neglected to pull out that were slowly falling out of their own accord with each minute movement of the hovercar. The poor guy must have been bored out of his mind waiting for Juno to show up. Next time he would know to bring a tablet or smartcom. Something to keep himself busy.

For now though, Juno could appreciate Nureyev's endearing little braids.

As a detective, Juno had a certain familiarity with the word "Perplexed."

As fast as the train had rushed by, questions rushed through Juno Steel's head. What was Nureyev's game? How would they board that impossible train? Where would they go next? why the hell was the car so dusty?

Juno sneezed.

"Juno, darling, are you alright," Nureyev asked from the other side of the box-thingy between the front seats. He offered Juno a full box of tissues, because of course the damn boy scout would come prepared.

"I'm fine," Juno took a tissue from the box and blew his nose. "It's just the dust."

"Oh. Sorry, Juno. I meant to vacuum, really, it's just—"

"That's fine. I'll live."

Then the strangest event of Juno's late night/early morning occurred: Nureyev put the tissue box in his pocket.

Juno's eyes or brain seemed to protest seeing or perceiving a 12cm by 8cm by 23cm box slide neatly into a pocket only 10cm wide and maybe as deep. He blinked, and when he looked again, he couldn't even see the bulge where the tissue box ought to be.

He must have been imagining things. Between the stress of the case and the overall lack of sleep it was only likely that he would start seeing things.

He decided to change the subject.

"So are you taking me to a casino?"

With Nureyev in the shower getting ready for bed, Juno realized that there was one word that started with P that he had not looked into, and as a detective, looking into things was kind of his job. So he grabbed Nureyev's coat from where it was draped over the chair and began to look through its pockets.