[[A quick request for Zillabean! :D]]


About Time Too

Emmy Altava was infamous for being assertive. Some would even call her impatient. She wasn't like the professor whose calm tolerance seemed to have endless limits. Emmy was brash. Reckless. Avid.

And she was sick to death of waiting.

Some girls believed it was just a case of "biding your time" and sitting idly around; if you were sweet and good hearted then Prince Charming would surely come along eventually. This tedious tactic may apply for the passive damsel in distress type. However, Emmy wasn't a damsel. She had to work for her Prince Charming.

Oh, she'd tried to snag said man's attention; she'd offered him enough hints on their adventures— smiling often, showing off her toned muscles, leaping at every chance to impress him. How could someone so intelligent be so ignorant as well? Several people had even wondered if they were a couple (there was that woman recently in Monte d'Or...) and he still never discussed their relationship!

The subtle approach obviously wasn't getting her anywhere. She would just have to be completely forward and tell him how she felt. That was it. Her mind set, Emmy marched up the hall in Gressenheller University and banged on the door. She was greeted by her employer (and crush), Professor Hershel Layton.

"Hello, Emmy. Is something the matter?" (Well, she had been knocking as if a fire had broken out.)

Her throat closed up and her palms suddenly became clammy at the sight of him. Darn him and his dark eyes and his perfectly handsome face... Emmy thought. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that there was no reason to be nervous right now. It was just a simple confession— what was so worrying about that? She'd fought giant monsters and villains before; this should have been a breeze.

"Are you all right, my dear?" The professor's concerned, even voice broke through her thoughts. "Please don't be offended, but you look a bit feverish."

Emmy swallowed. "I... I... just came to tell you—" She'd just worked up the courage to confess when Rosa came around the corner, feather duster in hand. Emmy silently cursed the cleaner for her awkward timing. (Despite the fact that Rosa was dead on time to tidy the professor's cluttered office.)

"Good morning Professor, Emmy," Rosa waved cheerily.

"Ah, Rosa, how are you?" The professor's gaze left Emmy— missing her smouldering expression— to smile at his old friend.

"Fine, fine. I do hope you've been keeping this room tidy Professor, it would make my job a little easier."

Professor Layton held the office door open, chuckling lightly as Rosa went inside. "But of course, a gentleman must always help a lady..." When Rosa had entered and started her work, the professor turned to his female assistant again. "I'm sorry Emmy. Now, what were you about to say—?"

With a growl Emmy seized him by the coat collar, yanked him towards her and kissed him hard; her lips colliding with his. After a moment Emmy shoved the bewildered man away from her. "Finally..." the young woman released an extremely satisfied sigh and stalked away from the office.

Layton just stood in the open doorway, flushed and blinking.

Rosa, who had seen the entire thing, was smirking to herself as she dusted the professor's shelves. "It's about time too," she muttered.