UNLOCK SUCCESSFUL

              Her fingers fumbled idly with the tiny item in her pocket. It was smooth, glossy… When she examined it in the light it glittered prettily, and if she held it in the shadows it almost seemed to glow with a frightening omniscient power. It was otherworldly, really, this little trinket she had. Perfect for nervously turning over in her palm again and again, slipping the tip of her thumb into the little hole and then quickly pulling it back out. In her mind she said it was calming her nerves; in reality, she knew it was making her grow more and more excited with each passing moment.
              It was easy to acquire it—almost as easy as it was to talk her way into this private session with a criminal mind, a brilliant criminal mind and no safety glass separating her from him. Nothing but open space would be between the two persons. She sighed to herself. It wasn’t stealing, she repeated, because she was going to return it as soon as she was finished. She wasn’t like him. Well, rather, she was like him but aware of this fact and she therefore would absolutely not steal anything for any purpose. She had every intention of handing the miniscule gem back to Mr. Wright, explaining that she must have accidentally seized it in her spastic episode. Mr. Wright had come back the night after the trial to interrogate her lightly, just tie together a few loose ends, make sure everything fell into place quite nicely. That was when she had accidentally on purpose decided and impulsively swiped the mysterious stone from his pocket.
              She was a woman of detail; very few things were said to her that were not recorded in her mind and then later in her little book. So of course, as odd a comment as “I’m here to break your Psyche-Lock” was still fresh in her thoughts, even though Phoenix Wright had said that to her nearly a year ago. Psyche-Lock… It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that he had some way to read into her mind—possibly even into her soul—and force her to tell him secrets she kept hidden. He had been passing over that little charm in his hand as he’d told her, and again the other night when he had asked her a few casual questions. Adrian had remembered that, as his questions began to run dangerously close to a few areas she did not want him to think about. Not even she herself wanted to think about them, really. Then she had remembered the Psyche-Locks. And she had panicked.
              That was her original reason for splitting into a wreck and playing it off as utter embarrassment at the situation she had caused for Wright and his friends. The original reason she had grabbed his vest and shaken him, apologizing profusely and watching inconspicuously as the little gem slipped between his fingers and hit the rug, then rolled under the chair unnoticed by the lawyer in his surprise at being violently shaken by Adrian. Then she had ushered him away, still maintaining her act, and once he had gone she had grabbed the rock and stuffed it into her pocket to keep it from his use.
              It wasn’t until afterwards that she had thought to use it for the purpose she had in mind now. After all, if she had the power to search people’s souls for their darkest secrets, she could possibly answer a few questions to benefit herself. It wasn’t a problem. Maybe if she found out the answers to the questions she had, she could face the attorney without fear of him trying to dig up her own Psyche-Locks. She brushed her long bangs out of her eyes and sat up perfectly straight as the door across the room clicked with the sound of a turning doorknob. Her hands folded in her lap, carefully covering the magical item from view. Only she would know it existed.
                At least, for now.
                She didn’t make eye contact as he entered the room, and neither did he. It was unspoken between the two of them, that they would show no interest in each other’s company except for the fact that she had come this far to see him. After all, they were professionals. Her gaze passed over him once; his eyes were closed, his shoulders pulled back as his wrists were cuffed together, giving him a look of strict superiority as he practically waltzed into the room. There was a smirk plastered across his face, as he had obviously already planned out their entire meeting in his mind as he marched down the hall. His smirk was returned to him by Adrian, laughing to herself; he had no idea what she had in store. The guard who led him in quickly fumbled with the man’s handcuffs, took them into his hands and started to speak to the woman sitting patiently in the chair. Before he could say anything, Adrian’s eyes locked firmly on his.
              “I assume you’ll be standing outside the door this entire time, correct?” she said coolly. The guard drew back a bit, surprised that he had been addressed so calmly and expertly.
              “Er, yes ma’am,” he responded. “I’ll be listening in closely, and I’ll pop my head in every once in a while to make sure everything’s going okay.”
              “That won’t be necessary.”
              “…Pardon?”
              “That will not be necessary,” she repeated coldly. “We won’t be long.”
              The guard stood awkwardly for a moment, then scratched the back of his head and mumbled a submissive reply. Moments later he was gone from the room, the door closed securely behind him. They were alone.
              Even though his hands were unbound, the criminal detective stood with them behind him, still smirking to himself as he mused about whatever he thought Adrian had come to talk to him about. Most likely a thorough chastising for taking advantage of her trust and proving to be a thief when she needed most someone who was against thievery.
                “…Allow me to guess,” he drawled smugly, breaking the heavy silence they had been holding. “You are here… Zvarri!” Adrian jumped a bit in her chair as his voice boomed excitedly. The detective’s hands snapped around his body and he held the magnifying glass monocle he usually wore out in front of him, acting as though he were inspecting her from across the room. “…To reprimand me for my latest delving into thievery and blackmail! …Am I correct?”
               “And lying,” Adrian snapped bitterly. It had been a reflex; she quickly calmed herself back down and turned the gem over in her hand. The detective replaced his eyeglass and smirked again like the arrogant bastard he was.
               “Yes, and lying… What an ugly way of putting it. I prefer to refer to it as Luke Atmey’s elegant deception.” Naturally, Adrian couldn’t find anything elegant about the things the detective had done, but she said nothing. She was controlled. He could not upset her—she had too much to risk, what with her secrets and Psyche-Locks and all that spiritual taboo that she overheard Mr. Wright discussing with the young Fey girls.
               She sat back in her chair and clenched her fist about the little trinket, trying to think of where to possibly begin regarding the discovery and the subsequent destruction of a Psyche-Lock. How did Phoenix go about doing it? He always started by casually getting onto a suspicious subject. “I’m not here to let you know how utterly pissed I am about all this, Mr. Atmey,” she said slowly. “I have a feeling you already know about that.”
               Atmey giggled quietly to himself. “The Ace Detective always knows!”
               God, she wanted to hit him. But she contained her rage. This was more important than giving Luke Atmey the head trauma he deserved. “I’m here to find out information.” Maybe it was a bit direct, but sometimes direct worked best with people like him. She locked her eyes onto his just as he opened them to show she meant business, and he did not run away on an unrelated tangent. Instead he stared right back at her, just as intently as she watched him, meeting her challenge.
               “Really, Ms. Andrews?” he asked. “What kind of information could you possibly need to know? If it’s concerning my crimes, yes, I assure you I am indeed the notorious Mask☆DeMasque. The urn has already been returned, so you can go ahead and present your ‘Treasure Exhibit’ without fear. I most certainly won’t be returning to it.” As per usual, he took an entire monologue to state what was already blatantly obvious. Adrian’s stomach turned as she forcibly ignored that she did not mind at all.
              “It’s not about that either, Mr. Atmey.” To her delight, he seemed a bit taken back by this. Obviously she was breaking his lovely mold before he could stop her.
              Detective Atmey scrutinized her, but she relinquished no clues to her true intentions. He paused, and then said slowly, “…So then, what is it about, Ms. Adrian Andrews?”
              “I thought you said ‘the Ace Detective always knows’?” Adrian retorted. She couldn’t help it. Luke didn’t seem to enjoy having his speech used against, either; his eyes narrowed, posture stiffening as he glared down the length of his nose at the young woman interrogating him. It was then that he noticed her hands fidgeting.
              “May I ask, then, what you have in your hands?” She stopped fumbling with her confiscated treasure immediately as he asked, bringing his suspicions higher. “Are you recording what I’m saying, my lady? If you are, I must remind you that you have nothing to learn from me now. My intentions, my motives, even my methods, have all been graciously revealed to a court of law. There is nothing you can pry from my thoughts that can be used as any fodder for blackmail, or whatever it is you’re intending to use me for.” He was quite defensive, noted Adrian. It was a nice change, for someone else—him, of all people—to feel cornered and frightened. Did that make her a sadist? Her stomach went cold; she needed to stay on task. But she wasn’t going to get anywhere if Luke felt like she was on the offensive.
              “No, Detective Atmey,” she said as gently as she could, trying to bring his guard down, “I’m not recording you. I’m not going to blackmail you. I’m not… like that.” She dropped her free hand over the side of the chair she sat in and plucked her orange notebook from the floor. “All I’m here for is an answer to a question I’ve been wondering about.” His eyes remained trained upon the hand holding Phoenix’s gem, but he cautiously replied to her.
              “…And what question could you possibly have? I’ve already told you repeatedly: Everything I had to hide has been revealed.”
              The woman breathed slowly, deliberately. At this point, she had to tread carefully, she knew. Her words had to be chosen with care. “Not everything, detective,” she murmured. “…Detective Atmey,” she began, “I’m well aware that you are the Phantom Thief, as you’ve made a point in repeating this fact to me several times. I don’t have a problem with accepting that. What I want to know…” She turned the gemstone over again, cautiously running her thumb along its smooth edge to urge herself onward. “Detective, at any point between deciding to become Mask☆DeMasque, and the other day when you were finally caught, did you ever… Regret it?”
              Atmey blinked at her, apparently confused by the question. “Regret it? Regret what?”
              She sighed, knowing she was making this more difficult than it actually was. “Did you ever regret becoming a Phantom Thief?”
              The detective didn’t give the question any thought. He removed his monocle and began to polish its glass on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, and laughed. “Hee hee hee hee hee… Ah, the things you claim to understand… My lady, I assure you I never once regretted my decision to turn to a life of crime. Not even when I was caught! The thrill of the plotting, the act of stealing, and the grand finale as I return under my detective persona to track myself as the whole world watches on edge! Such a stimulation could never be produced by any other means.” He shook his head and tucked away the cleaning cloth. “A person like you could never understand. But no, I most certainly never regretted it.”
              No Psyche-Locks. How was she even supposed to know when he had them? Adrian assumed that it would be fairly obvious, but if Mr. Wright had to go through some sort of special training to unlock them, it was possible that her efforts were in vain. Or maybe he didn’t have anything to hide after all? Maybe all those nights in the Lordly Tailor when she felt his eyes watching her with some ulterior motive were purely her overactive imagination? No, she decided. She was approaching this too vaguely. If she wanted results, she had to explain herself a bit more. “You never regretted it?” Adrian asked. “Never?”
              “Never. I enjoyed myself the entire time.”
              “So you’re saying… You never thought to yourself, that maybe, if you had been an honest detective all along, things would have turned out differently?” Atmey looked curiously in her direction. “It never crossed your mind that things could have been better that way? That maybe… You could find your stimulation in a different form?” He started to narrow his eyes again, his shoulder muscles visibly tensing up. She was getting nearer to something. “…Did you not ever stop and think to yourself that you could get the same thrill from stealing, from a person? Maybe even a specific person?”
              Adrian jolted as a thunderous boom clashed against her eardrums, coming from nowhere. Before she could search for its source, though, everything around her—save for the Ace Detective, who looked rather irritated at her inquiry but not fazed at all by the loud noise—flashed in bright contrasting color, and was swallowed in a thick, inky blackness. As the darkness ate the room, several enormous metal chains shot across the detective’s body, crisscrossing before and behind him, though he seemed not to notice their obvious presence. Adrian noted, terrified, that the chains lacked a beginning and an end; they kept going forever in either direction. At the sound of a shattering cymbal crash, a single gold and crimson lock manifested itself heavily at the chains’ intersection in front of Atmey.
“…No, Miss Andrews,” he said consciously, “I never allowed that thought to cross my mind.” His eyes ran over her quick, nervous breathing, and he added, “Is something the matter?”
              Of course something was the matter! Didn’t he see the overwhelming darkness, and the ominous chains, and the huge lock over his heart—Adrian clutched her forehead for a moment to gather herself. No, he did not see them. She hadn’t seen anything strange when Wright had said something about her Psyche Lock. And that was it! He really did…
              “I’m fine. Sorry. I thought I heard something. It’s nothing.” Determined to see her mission through to the end, she stood and took a step towards him, almost afraid to approach the lock. The gem was being pressed so tightly into her hand that it was leaving an impression in the skin of her palm, but she barely noticed. She forced herself to relax. It would be best for her to approach the actual breaking of the lock in the style that Wright used on her. “Do you refer to that as ‘Luke Atmey’s elegant deception’ too, Detective?”
              “I don’t see what makes you think that. I have no reason to lie about my personal feelings.”
              “Somehow I doubt that,” she told him firmly. His attention snapped back to her, realizing that she was being completely serious. “For some reason or another, you are lying to me… concerning the very question I came here to answer.” She smiled; he was trapped now, hers to lead. He didn’t look very flustered, though. He relaxed his shoulders and leered at her.
              “If you’re so positive about that, my dear, then where’s your evidence?” Adrian was taken off guard, this time. Evidence? “Go ahead, prove to me that I at one point, did in fact yearn to disregard my criminal mind in favor of the company of another person!” Adrian paused for a moment and thought. Obviously she didn’t have any evidence to prove her outlandish accusation, save for the massive lock Luke held on the subject. In order to prove her point, she would have to approach the scenario from another angle.
              “Well, the thing you want most is affection. Attention. That much is obvious. And what better way to earn affection and attention than from a significant other?”
              Luke turned away and stared into the air, in deep thought. “Perhaps that is your humble opinion, but I work alone, my lady. Another person’s company would only serve as a distraction. You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to prove anything,”
              Adrian folded her arms and squeezed the rock, trying to think of a way to work through his façade of self-confidence. “Maybe it would be a distraction… if you were still in the criminal career. But we already said that this concerned you wanting to escape that life for the person in question.”
              “However,” he retorted, “under the guise of a brilliant Ace Detective, I received the love and adoration of hundreds upon hundreds of people! I had no reason to give all of that up for the supposed ‘love’ of some person whom I know would never return such ridiculous feelings. In fact,” he whirled back around and struck a pose, flashing his large ruby at her, “You seem so intent on proving that I regret turning to my life of thievery due to unrequited love. So I dare you, identify my supposed object of fondness! Who is it that I ‘wished to throw away my chance at fame and recognition’ for?”
              Adrian tilted her head down. If there had been any light in this void of blackness, she was sure it would have given her glasses a rather sinister glare. “I’m not ready to get into that yet, Detective Atmey. But I would like to note that I felt your eyes on me, those twenty days at the Lordly Tailor. You were watching me.”
              “Prove it.”
              “Excuse me?”
              “You heard me, my lady. I told you to prove it. Prove to me that I was watching you during my twenty day span of work at the Lordly Tailor department store!”
              She stood there for a moment, pondering her next move. “W-Well, I could feel you watching me work…”
              “Zvarri!” A jet of pain tore through her body, into her very soul. Adrian nearly toppled over from the shock, and the crippling fire that burned her. The jewel slipped in her hand, but she caught herself and held it tightly. Apparently, coming up short in Psyche-Lock breaking was a dangerous occurrence. “If that’s all you have to throw at me, Adrian Andrews, then I can safely say that I have nothing to fear. Not that I ever did, of course. I’ve already told you that I not once regretted anything I did. Not once, not a single time!” He laughed, apparently not aware of the pain she was in. She shook her bangs out of her eyes and forcibly composed herself, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Atmey continued exuberantly, “However! Allow Luke Atmey to humor you! Prove to me, then, that I even have a secret to hide! Show me what gave you that incentive.”
              The manager resisted the urge to slam her head on the figurative wall. Of all the things to have to prove… Adrian doubted if she could handle another burst of blinding pain like before. Detective Atmey stood giggling at his clever ploy, and a thought occurred to her… “Detective?” He returned his attention to her, that cocky grin of his playing once more on his face. “You want me to prove that you have a secret to hide?”
              “…Precisely. If you can do that, then I will happily concede and allow you in on this twisted little dance of mine.”
              There was only one possible way to prove that the detective was hiding a secret, though Adrian felt rather uncomfortable in attempting to explain it. Cautiously, she advanced towards the chains binding the Psyche-Lock to the unknowing detective’s chest. She stopped in front of him, faltering from her nervousness at being so close to something only she could see… But not for long. “Very well, then. I’d be… happy, to show you.” Luke sighed, suggesting that he saw no point in Adrian continuing her charade, but did not stop her. The girl’s perseverance amused him.
              She hesitated, and then slowly reached her hand through the chains. She shivered to think of what might happen if she touched one… “Hold out your hand, Mr. Atmey,” she instructed.
              To humor her, he did as commanded, raising his hand to receive whatever she had to present to him. The manager set her fist into his gloved palm and released the powerful gemstone into it. Her hand closed around his so that they both held onto it. Atmey looked questioningly at her hand covering his, wondering what she had presented to him.
              And then his eyes widened. His hand twitched and tensed in her hand, while he looked rapidly around the emptiness. Adrian smiled, knowing her trick had worked: Atmey was being sucked into the empty void of the Psyche-Lock realm. She started to explain her actions, but the sound of air hitting metal forced her voice to die away. More huge links of metal chains shot down towards them, crossing this way and that around her body. She froze to keep from getting hit, and winced as another Psyche-Lock slammed into place around her chain work. Of course; the closer she came to his secret, the closer she came to her own. Adrian felt his hand squeeze hers nervously. He did not like the idea Psyche-Locks.
              “Wh-What… What is this?” he spat anxiously, looking behind him into the dark.
              “This?” she asked, to which Luke responded with an incredulous stare. “This, Detective… Is a Psyche-Lock.” She gestured down to her own, and to the one in front of him. “They show when a person is keeping a secret inside their heart, I believe.” Luke grimaced, realizing he had been figuratively—and literally—trapped by his own words.
              “…I see,” he muttered bitterly, eyes still darting around the blackness.
              “So I’m sure you know what this means,” she continued. “Seeing as you have one hanging around your neck…”
              “…Then I must have a secret I’m withholding.” He swallowed nervously, but he was not finished. “B-But… How can you say this secret has anything to do with regret?”
              “It’s elementary,” she said. Atmey glared at her, an act that she ignored. “When I first began to talk to you tonight, you didn’t have any Psyche-Locks on you. But when I began to ask you if you lamented over your life as a thief, because of some person…”
              “…Then the Psyche-Lock manifested itself before me,” he finished slowly. “That explains your shock earlier…” He released a slow breath. “…But.” Adrian looked up into his face. His eyes were shadowed, but he appeared to be staring at the lock around her heart. “Then what secret are you holding? Why is there a lock visible on you? According to your logic, the locks should only appear once I lead you onto a subject you do not wish to discuss. However, I have not asked you a single question that would merit secrecy. Explain that, then!”
              A thin line of blush crossed the woman’s face. She gave his hand a tentative squeeze without thinking. “…Well, the secret you’re holding… The same questions I asked to get at yours work in reverse to get at mine.” They both paused, waiting to see what would happen. Nothing. For lack of anything better to do, Adrian continued, “…So, if you want to know my secret, you’re going to have to admit to yours.” She turned her brown irises up defiantly at his onyx ones. His eyes betrayed that he was mulling something over in his mind—probably weighing his chances with revealing his true intentions, and what could he possibly gain from breaking into Adrian Andrews’s heart?
              He worked his hand awkwardly through the mess of chains (he was just as hesitant to touch them as she had been) and touched the side of her face with his glove. “So you’re saying that… you regret me becoming a thief?” She said nothing. “My lady, I was a thief long before I met you. I do not need you to dwell on the matter. …Or do you regret it for a specific reason?” She remained silent. Atmey paused thoughtfully, then pushed her bangs aside again. “…When you said that you felt my eyes on you at the department store, did you enjoy the thought of having my attention focused on you? “
              “Did you enjoy focusing your attention on me?” she snapped back at him.
              “Indeed.”
              Adrian drew back, and watched—well, it was more like felt—her Psyche-Lock shudder slightly. Luke, too, took note of this reaction. “Y-You mean…”
              “Zvarri! Of course, my dear!” he boasted. “I was watching you nearly ninety percent of the time I spent dancing about in the shadows of that exhibit. You’re very interesting to watch work, and of course it’s not as though I had anything else to do, really.” And now he was back to his usual smug smirk. Adrian felt her face growing hot. That arrogant bastard! That snooty, selfish, conceited, haughty, egotistical, supercilious, pompous, condescending… Words flooded her mind, but she couldn’t vocalize them. Her voice was caught in her chest.
              She hadn’t even touched his Psyche-Lock, either! Here she was, shaking and embarrassed as her secrets nearly spilled out all over the place, while he sat back with that cocky expression, completely untouched. Not one hair out of place, nor the slightest hint of nervous sweat beading on his brow. Yet she knew, she knew! what he was hiding underneath those chains! She just didn’t have any evidence to prove it, because her mind had been clouded with fear and uncertainty and god-awful affection as she had made her way to the detention center that evening. If she could just do something to fluster him in the slightest, Adrian knew his lock would shatter into a thousand tiny shards. Even if it took hers with it, she was determined to make it so.
              Completely disregarding her earlier notions about not touching the chains because they were spiritual and potentially dangerous, especially considering the terrible pain that had gashed her soul so badly when she’d made a careless mistake before, Adrian tossed her book aside and lunged at him. The detective started to pull back, but her hand was still tightly wound about his, shoving that mysterious little ornament into his glove. Her free hand seized the back of his head and jerked him forward. Her lips forced down against his, and his eyes widened. The monocle over his right eye popped off and clattered to the proverbial ‘floor’ of the void as his body was shoved against its ‘wall.’ Between their two bodies, the giant scarlet Psyche-Locks rammed together and froze, holding them apart only by their size. It held for only a moment or two, and then in a burst of energy Adrian heard the sound of shattering glass. The shards of the locks burst apart and diffused into nothingness.
              And oh! Passion unveiled itself. Adrian’s body thudded against his heavily, her tongue running itself into the detective’s mouth where it was eagerly received. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his soft shaved head, then brushed back the long blonde locks he had remaining for no reason other than it felt gloriously good to disrupt his otherwise orderly appearance. Atmey’s hand squeezed hers tightly, refusing to let it move and drop the bauble that had brought them this close. His other found a place at the front of her sweater, balling it up and desperately pulling her nearer by it. She came without resistance, allowing her body to rub gently against his. She was already up on her toes to reach him; the act of swathing her tongue against his alone was causing her to bob up and down into his chest, and, to her amusement, was causing his pointed nose to prod into her cheek repeatedly. Her blush deepened; she could feel heat radiating off of his face, so she knew he had turned red as well.
             But they did not stop. Adrian pulled away and licked the side of his throat gingerly, before closing her mouth around it. A light moan of delight escaped the detective’s lips. He wrapped his leg around hers and slid his hand up from her shirt into her hair just as hers had been in his. Just below his ear came Adrian’s voice. “Do you see now… Why you should regret stealing the urn from my exhibit?”
Atmey murmured in response, “Zvarri… My lady, I never once regretted stealing that worthless urn. I never will.”
             “What do you regret, then?” She squeezed his throat gently between her teeth—not enough to hurt, but just enough to gratify him immensely. Atmey shivered in her arms, and she thought she might have heard him repeat his personal word a few times under his breath.
              Once again, the chains returned with their loud rushing and scraping against themselves, more numerous this time, Adrian noticed, binding the two of them together rather snugly. The front of his pants grinded against her, proving that her efforts had lit a bit of a flame in the pit of his loins. She couldn’t help but smile, even as three more Psyche-Locks materialized on the metalwork behind her. “Allow Luke Atmey to clarify,” he stammered down to her. “It is of no concern to you what it is I actually do… regret, as you put it. Lament, even. But only for the sake of this… What we’re doing now. Don’t dwell on it, for there’s nothing to worry over in reality as long as I give in not to the desire to lament over my crimes as Mask☆DeMasque. Think nothing of it…”
              “Even if it has three Psyche-Locks on that one secret? You must be delusional, Mr. Ace Detective.” In quick response, Atmey jerked his hand away from hers and allowed the jewel she had used against him to hit the floor and bounce away. The locks and chains retreated immediately, and the world around them flashed once before returning to the perceived normal setting. They were back in the detention center’s visitor’s room, up against the wall adjacent to the door, backs to the chairs prepared for them. Now having the luxury of two free hands, Luke reached down and began to fumble with his atypical belt.
              “…Perhaps I am, Miss Andrews. If only because Luke Atmey has you in his mighty arms, while you are waiting to be taken in the most elegantly forbidden of elegant and forbidden ways.” Adrian laughed lightly and pulled his head down to kiss her again, which he happily obliged to do.
              “Detective, I’ll admit: Lying, pompous thief and overwhelming bastard or not, you certainly have a… way with words.”
              “The poetic locution is one of my fortes, my dear. I was under the impression that you knew this.”
              “Of course I did.” His belt came loose, and he moved on then to the buckle of his pants. “It’s painfully obvious to anyone who pays attention, even if they don’t like to admit it.” Her hands dropped then to help him unlock his zipper and begin to pull it graciously downward…
              “Erm, excuse me?” called a voice from another corner of the room. The two quickly pivoted their heads to see the guard from before looking confusedly into the room at their actions. He was clearly a bit slow on the uptake, and did not quite understand what he was witnessing. “I was just checking up on you two… You said you’d be done quickly, right?” He surveyed the situation a little more closely, then added blankly, “Why aren’t you sitting in the chairs?”
              “We’re going to be longer than expected,” Adrian responded promptly. “Please wait outside until we’re finished, sir. This is a private conversation.” The guard slumped and sulked to himself, wishing they would answer his questions instead of ordering him around. Alas, he nodded and backed from the room, closing the door behind him.
              Luke and Adrian waited in awkward silence for a few moments more. They giggled uncomfortably for a moment, and then lapsed into silence once more. Adrian sighed and leaned against his chest, stroking his thigh tenderly, musing to herself about the situation they’d been placed in.
              “…My lady,” Luke murmured, “Is it possible for us to resume?”
              She sighed and smiled. “Let’s.”