"You could call."
Techno sighs, and without haste, he adjusts his hood to sit comfortably over his head.
Honestly, Wilbur should be the one sighing in this scenario - dragged off into a shady alley when the moon rests at the zenith, with a firearm in one hand, a trash bag in the other, and a vague plan to heed.
"That's boring." The consulting detective purrs, and gloved fingers brush off imaginary lint off an equally lavish coat. It's a waste of time trying to reason with a mad man, but Wilbur likes to try sometimes.
His honied baritone echoes from down the cold alleyway. "Calling is for casuals."
"And you're not one of them?" Wilbur shuffles past a trash bag brimming with refuse,
Techno bats his eyelids before swapping his smile out for a frown from his pocket. "Oh god no. Of course I'm not one of them." It leaves his sharp tongue scornful, as if repulsed with even being associated with the very definition of being conventional. The egotistical bastard revels in being an outlier, Wilbur reminds himself.
Unconventional. Aberrant. Simple adjectives that injects some semblance of glee into the consulting detective.
"Good, good, good." Wilbur pauses to breathe in some air. "I was beginning to think that you aren't interesting, Techno."
"I'm always interesting. Now, pass me the bag."
YOU ARE READING
✏ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.
Fanfictioni write oneshots and they're platonic cause why not. content creators, please read the later chapters they're much more well written please thank you tommy has read this before and i don't know whether to be honoured or highly disturbed cover art: @...
