There she stood, in front of a small coffee shop, with her trusty bag slung over her shoulder and her useless-but-awesome glasses perched on top of her head. She stared up at the shops sign (which read in fancy letters, "Tres Bien,") and debated entering, or simply running away as fast as she could.

Each situation had its advantages and disadvantages.

Detective Ema Skye lingered there, pursing her lips and grinding her heels into the concrete, for a good five minutes. It wasn't every day that her sister, Lana Skye, flew in to town—and it certainly wasn't every day that she took time off to make a lunch date. However, late last night, Lana had called and done just that.

Ema contemplated slamming her head against the coffeehouse's brick wall.

She couldn't just waltz in and pretend that everything was completely normal. She hadn't seen Lana in at least four or five years. What was she going to talk about? How was she going to act? Oh, god—how was she even going to greet her?


Well, there went her whole "run-away-and-pretend-that-you-forgot-about-her-call-last-night" option. Turning around, the brunette detective forced a happy grin. "Hi, Lana…!"

Lana smiled warmly, but she did not offer a hug. Instead, she held out her hand, which Ema awkwardly shook. "How are you?"

"That's a question better answered over coffee, Lana." Or a really, really, really big bottle of vodka.

"Of course! Come on, let's go in." Lana proceeded to open the little shop's door, ringing the bell on top of it.

Being as polite and efficient as ever, she held the door and let Ema walk through first before following her inside. Silently, the two proceeded to a small table for two by the window and took their respective seats. A rather disgruntled waiter left behind two small menus and left them to run back into the kitchen. Almost instantly, a heavy silence fell between the two girls.

"So, Ema. How did your forensics test go?" Lana smiled slightly.

"I failed." Ema deadpanned, looking anywhere but her sister's face.

"Oh!... That's, um… nice..." One thing remained clear: over the last five years, Lana had gained absolutely no social skills whatsoever.

Another awkward silence settled in. The waiter came by again and took their orders. Ema finally spoke up, feeling that it was her turn to break the silence.

"So… What have you been up to?" She said slowly, dragging it out to waste some time.

"Oh, I've been here and there. I've been prosecuting this whole time—though now in many foreign areas." Lana smiled fondly as she thought of her job.

That makes sense, seeing as she's married to it. Ema thought dryly.

"And you?" Lana's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh, me? I'm working as a detective down at the local precinct-- the very same precinct that Mr. Gant worked in, actually. It's a boring job, but sometimes I get to utilize science. Most of the time, though, I'm just sorting files or asking questions." When she had finally finished speaking, Ema realized just how boring her job really sounded.

At the mention of Gant, Lana's face turned stony, but she then forced a smile back onto it. "That sounds… fun."

Oh, yeah. It's almost as fun as watching paint dry.

A few more moments passed in awkward silence. Their coffee arrived, and after a few moments of idle sipping, Lana asked the million dollar question.

"And your love life?"

Ema suddenly sprayed all the coffee that she had been sipping on all over the table. Lana made a disgusted face and handed her sister the napkins that had been resting on her side of the table. When Ema had finished wiping her coffee off the table, she looked up at her sister curiously.

"…Did you really just—"


Ah, Lana. As blunt as ever.

"Um, well—" She was suddenly on her toes, scrambling to find words.

"Oh, Ema. Don't tell me that you haven't had a man in your life in five years!" Lana looked strangely amused.

"Are you telling me that you have someone, Lana?"

"Of course. Jake."

Damn you, Marshall.

"Oh—Well, I… I have a man in my life!"

"Who?" Lana arched a brow inquisitively.

"Um… well, my boss…" Ema bit her lip slightly, and a vision of the glimmerous fop she had just named as her boss streaked across her mind.

"Are you 'romantically involved' with him?" Lana's eyes sparkled in a slightly intimidating manner. Now Ema understood why witnesses broke into a cold sweat when cornered by her sister in court.

"…No." Admitting defeat, Ema sighed slightly. Of all the times for her sister could have doted on her, she just had to choose now.

"Oh, Ema." Lana smiled slightly, in that 'it's okay, you're only slightly pathetic compared to me and my fantastic relationship with my boyfriend' manner. "You really like him, don't you?"

"What?!" Ema arched a brow and stared at her sister like she was mentally unstable. "No, Lana, you have the wrong idea—"

"It's okay, sweetie. Unrequited love hurts, but you'll get over it."

Who are you, and what have you done with Lana?!

"Listen, Lana, it's not 'unrequited'—" But Ema was cut off.

"So you are involved with him!" Her sister was smiling again, like a tiger cornering its prey.

"N-No!" The green-eyed detective twitched slightly in aggravation.

"Ema, you're not making any sense." Lana arched a brow again in a bemused manner.

"Look, Lana, I'm not involved with my boss. I don't like him. He's a stuck-up jerk. Honestly, I hope he falls into a never-ending hole and just stays there. I have no love life, Lana. I never have, and I never will." Ema seethed through gritted teeth.

"Oh." Lana paused. "…Oh."

Yeah. Oh.

"Good afternoon, Detective Skye!"

"Afternoon, Meekins." The very afternoon after the disastrous lunch date, Ema strolled past the hyperactive police officer on her way to her desk. After the traumatic lunch date, Ema had made up some excuse about having to finish some work and escaped as quickly as possible. She had run home as quickly as she could, collapsed on her couch, and fallen asleep until three, when she had to leave for work.

She arrived at her desk and saw a case file on it with a sticky note (a purple, sparkly sticky note) on it that read, "read over and return." She rolled her acid green eyes at her bosses' girly cursive and snatched the note, tossing it into the trashcan nearby. Ema then plopped into her seat and, with a heavy sigh, began to read the report.

It was a rather open and shut case; while she read, Ema's thoughts wandered, and she lightly chewed on the cap of her pen.

Oh yeah, I need to buy milk.

Oh, and eggs.

And a new coffee machine, for that matter.

Oh, and I can't forget to buy my train ticket.

Ugh. This is a long report.

Heh, it sounds like the chief is whining again.

And Meekins is spazzing again.

And my sister is talking to someone.

Whoa, what?!

Ema twirled her spinny chair around, just in time to see the elevator doors close on her sister. Forgetting the report, she suddenly made a horrifying realization.

Why would she be here? And why would she be taking the elevator?

I mean, the elevator really only goes up to my boss' office.

Oh, hell no.

Bolting for the stairs, Ema passed by a spastic Meekins, a depressed chief, and a quite few confused officers. She almost crashed into three people, and when she flung the door to the stairway open, she nailed another detective in the face with the door. After yelling out an apology, she proceeded to sprint up the stairs as quickly as she could in heels.

Finally, when she arrived on her boss' floor, she was out of breath and her throat was burning from lack of oxygen. Nevertheless, she dashed down the hallway to the door of Klavier's office.

"WAIT, LANA! YOU'VE GOT IT ALL WRONG!" She flung the door open, glancing about the room madly.

But her sister wasn't there. No, the only person there was a very confused German prosecutor, who was currently staring at her like she was possessed.

"Who is Lana? And why all this commotion, fräulein detective?" Her (extremely handsome) boss, Klavier Gavin, looked at her oddly with his piercing blue eyes. He had shed his purple jacket, and his blond hair was sticking up at a weird angle—he had probably slept on it funny.

"Don't play around with me! She's here! I know it!" Ema was practically growling. She stomped into the room and glared around, looking all over for any trace of her sister.

"Who's here? The only people here are me and you, ja?" Klavier arched a brow, giving her a rather confused look.

"You mean… She really isn't here…?" Ema's fury died quickly—and suddenly embarrassment took its place.

"Who is this mysterious girl?" Her boss walked towards her curiously. "The only mysterious girl I see is a rather flustered fräulein detective."

Her cheeks turned a dark red and she scowled. "Klavier, don't you come any closer."

"Fraulein, you're the one who burst into my office." His voice was like music, andgod, she hated it.

"W-Well, I have a perfectly logical reason—" Ema was stammering now, and she hated that even more. Keep your composure, girl!

"I think I know what it is, fräulein." Klavier smiled handsomely, playing with a stray lock of his platinum blonde hair.

"…Huh? You do?" Ema blinked slightly as he took a step closer and leaned in really close to her, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You couldn't deny your feelings toward me any longer, right?" Klavier grinned.

And Ema snapped.

Letting out a rather undignified scream, she turned on her heel and angrily stormed out of the German prosecutor's office. When she got to the elevator she mashed the down button so hard it might have broken if it weren't for the fact that it were already cracked. When the elevator doors opened, lo and behold, there stood Lana, who gave her a very odd look.

"Ema? What's wrong?"

Ema just stared at her sister wordlessly, her pointer finger hanging in midair.

"Oh, me? I was just stopping by Jake's office. I don't get to see him much, you know." With that, Lana smiled. "Well, if you're not getting in the elevator, then I guess I'll just go down. See you later!"

The doors closed, and Ema just stood there.

And stood there.

And stood there.

Finally, about ten minutes later, a male officer came by and saw her. He then poked her on the shoulder to see if she was okay.

The poor, innocent man would later wake up on the floor with a nasty purple bruise around his right eye.