Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: This was going to be longer but I liked how sweet I concluded this part. If I had gone on it would have been depressing.
He took his hat off. He didn't linger, running his thumb along the felt edge, or pausing when he lifted it from his head. Mr. Layton was a meticulous man. At most he would hold his chin in the nook between thumb and forefinger as he pondered. It was the first time Luke had seen him sans hat, not even when the man took a shower. Hershel came out of the bath wearing an autumn-orange bathrobe, his hair covered by a coal-colored towel. And he never went to a barber's-- he cut his own hair, as well as Luke's.
Luke gaped at the hatless Professor Layton. He almost didn't notice when the professor took his blue cap. Confusion overtook his surprise, then disbelief washed the expressions away. He felt something sit atop his head, but it wasn't floppy and familiar like his newsboy cap. He reached up and felt a strong wide brim; he reached higher up but failed to reach the top of the hat.
"Professor... it's... your hat," the boy said, dazed.
"That it is," Layton replied, smiling.