I'm so screwed... was all that Francis thought when he had struck that deal. Thankfully, Francis didn't have to work today, meaning he could scheme about what he should do. He couldn't take off with the funds as he didn't know what they would do exactly and maybe this could be his break. His break to be something more.

He glanced down at the daily newspaper and noticed a small ad about a detective that piqued his interest. Maybe this is how I can save my skin!

He instantly jotted down the address and shot out through his front door, booking it through the heavily populated town square and began to slow down when a silhouette in the distance grew closer and closer.

Francis walked towards the small hall where many detectives who worked against smuggling pirates supposedly worked. He glanced down at the ad and gave an eye raise towards the building. The building wasn't one that Francis would expect to look like a detective building. A window was boarded up, like it was protecting itself from strangers and the foundation was tilted, almost like an artist had drawn it out and refused to fix it. The roof was laughable. Everything felt like a child had planned the building out without any prior knowledge for landscaping.

Deep in thought, his hand grasped at the door only to veer out of the way for a storming female with tan skin and a light beige dress following after her. Her eyes were narrowed and her fists were clenched up.

"If they won't give me a discount because I am a girl, then I'll take my body somewhere else...!" Francis caught tattoos of a gang all over her body, the vibes giving off a lady of the night who knew how to have a good time he heard from Edward. Why would they turn her away if that was true...?

Francis would have chased after her, curious about her story (and the way her body moved in the night), but he couldn't stop to go save a damsel in distress. He needed to get the smuggling pirate off the market and keep his head and FINALLY get the recognition he deserved.

He trotted into the detective office and veered his eyes away in disgust. The inside was almost as miserable as the outside. The inside was cluttered and filled to the brim, boxes reached the ceiling as papers fluttered freely like butterflies. There were 3 rooms with nameplates, and a desk where a young secretary sat. She had brown, short hair cropped off to the side and green eyes.

"Hey~" He breathed, his mouth gaping open as he had to slap himself to slam his trap shut.

She giggled and waved. "Hi there." Her voice fluttered into his ears and bounced around the walls of his ear canal. He couldn't help but feel a thin line draw itself so cheerfully in its place. This girl lights up this ugly room.

"What's a beautiful sunflower like you doing in a place like this?" He leaned up against her desk as her eyes crinkled even brighter. She let out a small flustered giggle as her hand went up to her chest, like she was spoiled with compliments.

"Thank you. That brightened up my day." Her hand lightly brushed her brown hair more off to the side. Francis saw more of her eyes and leaned forward.

"I love your eye color, it's so pretty- it's like an emerald green and it's shiny like a gem."

Yep. I'm marrying this girl. His mind panted as she leaned closer towards him, blushing darkly and glanced up at the frenchmale, who asked, "what's your name, darling?"

She smiled. "Joan."

"What a pretty name!" He remarked. He closed his eyes and let the name run off his tongue. Joan. Joan. Joan.

"And what's yours?" Joan giggled, her voice smooth and angelical. Francis gleamed when he heard her question. Maybe they would grow close and develop a bond?

"Francis." He wanted to continue to talk, talk, talk and even talk more to Joan and the thought about asking Joan on a date fluttered around his brain, teasing him to ask her out to dinner. His mind began to wander as a British voice interrupted his daydream by clearing his voice obnoxiously loud and Joan covered her mouth to hide that pretty smile.

"Whenever you're done OGLING your eyes over my secretary, you're WELCOME to come in." One of the doors flew open and a short blond haired male stormed out. He had large eyebrows and glaring emerald-green eyes. He wore a light green detective outfit and adjusted his tie in a highstruck manner, his eyes never leaving Francis.

"Hmm... I think I will enjoy my conversation with Joan, thank you~" Francis chirped as the detective grabbed him rashly by the sleeve of his shirt, muttering, "I wasn't giving you a choice." And began his journey of dragging him away from Joan. Every few seconds, Francis glimpsed towards the male, who was eyeing Francis with a deathglare, treating Francis like a dog on a leash.

"Bye Joan, until we meet again~!" Francis waved goodbye to Joan and blew her a kiss. The two passed by the door on the far right, a gold name plate had 'Detective Kirkland' written in cursive and when Francis was finally in the room, he was released from the detective's iron grip.

Unlike the rest of the building, the detective's room was very... interesting. It had a map with a lot of pins on it, with no definitive meaning to Francis. The male sighed and veered towards Francis, his eyebrows burrowing sharply as he got up in Francis' face while standing on his tippy toes.

"I don't know who you think you are, coming in here and trying to flirt with Joan, but now I have to deal with handling your petty shit."

The last few words made his heart drop harder than a bass. The male rubbed a teacup's brim. "Great, I'm asking help from this asshat.." Francis mumbled. However, the detective shifted upwards and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You were that self pitying git I sa-"

Francis placed a finger on the blond's mouth to hush the male and he smacked Francis' hand away from him.

"Look, I didn't mean to flirt with your girlfriend-" Francis shrugged, leaning back on the window still that broke underneath his pressure. He gave a sheepish smile as the detective's deathglare continued.

"She's not my girlfriend-"

Francis cut him off and tried to ignore the feeling that they were both related. "I came here because I need your help."

"My help?" Huffed the detective who turned away from the frenchmale. "If you're going to be another male coming in here to oogle over my secretary, I frankly won't have a problem beating you up and sending you home with a limp."

Francis didn't respond right away as the words began to process in his head. He didn't want to get beat up by a coldhearted detective and plastered a fake smile. "Nono, I came here for a different reason. I assure you."

The detective turned around and faced him. "If you came here to suck my-"

"NOT THAT EITHER-!" Francis frantically waved his hands out in front of him as the detective grabbed a pen off his desk and repeatedly clicked the top of it.

"Is it-"

"Will you listen so I can just tell you the reason??" Francis gritted his teeth as the detective glanced at him peculiarly. When the detective didn't respond right away and seemed more interested in staring at the Frenchman, Francis took that as an opportunity to speak. "I need help with tracking a pirate."

"A pirate? Tch, typical." The detective yawned, his eyes never faltering off of Francis until he glanced down at his hands and smirked. "What pretty boy, did he steal your girlfriend?" The detective mocked, giving fake sympathy and moved towards his desk, sitting down in his chair and giving a doubtful look. "Unlike you, I don't have 'free time' to hunt down fake, drunken pirates."

"This is SERIOUS." Francis shot out from the window and the detective crossed his arms, his unamused frown still on his face. "Just... just give me a chance to explain everything to you! You're my only hope of..." Francis cut off as he almost revealed why he was here. The detective cocked one of his bushy eyebrows and stared in thought for a bit, the expression on his face wanted to turn the Frenchman away, until Francis slammed his hands on the detective's desk and pleaded. "Please! I would appreciate your help for this...!"

The male callously glared at the Frenchmale, his british accent sharp as he finally sighed. "...Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. Whom do I need to deal with?" The male started grabbing for files that were in a small filing cabinet.

Francis contemplated telling the british detective as he stood up, muttering names of pirates that usually drank at the bar. "Well..."

The detective seemed unphased from this as he began to list out descriptions of pirates in the bar and held back a snigger. That all seemed to fade; however, when Francis finally spoke up. "It's that one pirate, yanno. Whose name shouldn't be spoken because it's a curse."

The male put down the files and glared up at him. "Oh? You're interested in that tale? How ridiculous... Should've known you're superstitious. I can see it in your face. Years of bad luck? Haha right. Funny."

"Tale...?"

"It's just what people say goes bump in the night. He isn't real. I've been watching merchant ships and all the ones I've watched haven't been robbed," he said matter of factly. "Good day."

"Then come with me, Kirkland," Francis almost hissed. He began to lean against the desk to the point where the detective began to turn his head to the side, refusing to allow their noses to touch.

"I don't chase after ghost stories," he muttered as Francis grabbed the male's tie and pulled him close to him, which instantly locked their eyes as the two stared into the abyss of each other's orbs. Francis felt his blood boil as he didn't like being left unanswered by someone who was his only help. How could he get this detective to help him and trust him? His mouth began to open as he smirked, realizing a brochure was on the table behind the detective.

"Or, are you SCARED and fake just like your brochure?" The blond detective had been smirking that melted into a drooping frown when he had heard what Francis had said.

"That brochure isn't for this area but the one up north. We're treated like a redheaded stepchild. Did our ad disappoint you? How sad." His British accent began to grow thick in rage and his mouth opened, only for Francis to yawn in response.

"That doesn't answer if you're SCARED. What a poser..."

"Alright. We'll see who is laughing. I'll tell you, Frenchmen are usually wrong when compared to British Men."

Francis ignored the insult thrown at his ethnicity and glared. "Yeah, we will see who is laughing....-"

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland," the detective replied, his emerald green eyes cutting through his skin as he pretended to blow smoke off of his finger, like he had said something dangerous.

Francis snorted at the small action, he didn't really care if he knew the detective's name as he released the tie from his hands, getting an instant, "took you long enough." from Arthur.

"Could've held it for much longer~" Francis taunted as Arthur only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and muttering something under his breath that was inaudible. Francis couldn't shake the haunting feeling of his emerald green eyes and he punched himself.

"You okay?" Arthur asked as he continued to watch the male continue this habit. Francis stopped and scratched at his arms, embarrassed that he did it more than once. Changing the subject, Francis decided to ask, "yeah... anyways, what can you tell me about this tale?"

"There are multiple versions of this story," Arthur crossed his arms and then rolled his green eyes when Francis seemed clueless. "However, in all of the different stories, it starts with a young lad."

"Why-?"

"Simple. The figure everyone sees is a male and some say he even talked to them before," Arthur yawned and then rested back down in his chair as Francis moved away from his desk and back towards the small window.

"Nono," Francis let out a small chuckle. "I meant the difference between the different stories part of what you said!"

"Alright well," Arthur paused and crossed his arms. "Just note that most of this is superstition."

"I could care less." Francis responded elegantly and ran his hand through his long hair and watched the Englishman snort in disgust as he continued his story.

"Some say he is a ghost, others say he was abused by his three older brothers. The most common and accepted one is that he is a robin figure of sorts."

"How was he abused...?" Francis asked curiously as Arthur glanced up at him when he heard the question arise from the frenchman's mouth.

"Supposedly according to legend, he had 3 older brothers who would emotionally and physically drain and drain away at him. He saw what this world would do to him if he didn't man up, so he started smuggling, stealing. Always was foggy back in his hometown and ..." He started to chuckle and shook his head in disbelief. "It's just some stupid tale back in England."

"England?"

"Do you Frenchmen not know your geography-?"

"I know it's a country," Francis snapped, his patience being lost as he placed his hands on his hips. "Did it originate in England, you tea-brain?"

"Yeah. That's where it originated from, the tale. The only reason I've heard about it was because I lived there and moved down here... For work, frog."

"Well that's mighty... cool, but this is real! There have been robbings!" Francis hissed through gritted teeth as he was done with his patience being crossed once more.

Arthur only sighed and he started having an attitude with Francis. "Look, I don't know why you're caught up in a dumb folkstory, I have work and REAL cases to solve, not some ghost story that originated in England."

Francis groaned and crossed his arms. "Tonight will prove it and if he doesn't strike, then you can go on your merry way."

"Fine wanker, tonight will prove that you're a lying git. Furthermore, I can't wait to stop chasing after some ghost story." Arthur knitted his hands that supported his resting chin. His green eyes watched as Francis sashayed towards the door and slamming it shut behind him and hearing the angry yelling of Arthur gave the man a good chuckle.

"See you later Francis," Joan gave a small wave as her fingers touched her palms and lifted back up again, her brilliant Emerald green shining like a beautiful diamond.

"You have the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen..." Francis breathed as he ran his hand smoothly through his medium long platinum blonde hair. He turned his head and noticed the brit staring angrily at him, which caused his heart to hiccup in his chest when seeing him there. "Tata for now beautiful~!"

"Oh get the f-" and before Arthur could finish the sentence, Francis skipped his way out through the small door and finally could breathe the refreshing smell of the outside world.

~.~

Francis waited in the darkness that was cloaked around him and noticed the water vapor leave his mouth as he gave a small smile. He wore the outfit he wore last night as he began to stretch.

"And I thought taking a stroll at 2:50 am was a good idea," he heard a sarcastic voice growl out from behind him as Francis glanced over his shoulder, seeing Arthur in his detective uniform. "Hope you have evidence."

Francis bit his lip and stopped his stretching. "Oh, trust me, you will want a piece of me- I mean-"

Arthur glanced away as his green eyes began to focus on something else, clearly unamused with what Francis had said. Arthur shrugged it off as he responded. "I have high standards and you aren't fitting any of them."

"What's that supposed to mean, maybe your standards are just D-U-M-B!" Francis crossed his arms and began to pout.

"Don't look at me like that," Arthur frowned as Francis shot back up out of his slouching position and gave a smirk. He was trying to bait out time for something more... exciting to happen. Francis glanced around when Arthur finally snapped.

"Okay, let's see it. I have a long day tomorrow and this stunt will cost me my job."

"Over here-!" Francis shot his hands towards the dock and Arthur frowned, his green eyes wandered over the dock and boat and noticed that the boxes were being unloaded from the port. The sea sang a quiet melody as Francis plastered a fake smile when he noticed the male tighten up his tie.

"Thank you for wasting my time and hearing your French accent, it makes you a frog, frog." And he angrily stomped off, muttering something that Francis began to tune out.

"This... Doesn't make sense..." Francis told himself. He leaned against a tree and sighed. He just didn't get it. He wanted to chase after the detective; however, his feet were glued to the concrete. Was it all in their minds? A cruel trick someone was playing?

"No... I know this is true....!" Francis darted off towards the boat, his eyes racing as he began to slow down, sliding on the rocky pavement and landing on his knees. The guards. His run began to turn into a small trot as the guards stood their stone face. When Francis trotted out into their view, he pulled out his stolen sword and blew a kiss between the two of them.

"Mwah~"

Without warning, the two guards fell over on their backs, their face in the dirt. "How rude..." Francis huffed as he noticed straight bloody cuts that were on their necks and noticed they had been tied to the dock.

Francis raced towards the ship, hopping into the ship and a silent figure was in the darkness, slicing and dicing in the darkness. Groans of dying men sang around the figure and Francis grabbed his sword and sliced the air, his sword bouncing back to his side.

The silhouette turned around and sliced the air, cutting into Francis' right cheek. Blood leaked out of the wound and he clutched it, trying to apply pressure to it as he held his sword strongly in his right hand, the handle burning into his black gloves.

"Who are you?!?" Francis shouted at the pirate, or the creature that manifested in front of him.

They didn't respond right away, but he saw a sour smile in the darkness. They tried to ignore the brat that stood in their way as Francis sliced down at the box they darted to grab.

The figure twirled his sword and tried to slash at Francis's legs, when Francis fell back, a sour expression wrote itself onto their thin lines. They grabbed the supply box and jumped off into the darkness below, Francis raced over to the ledge of the boat and only saw the dark water. He hit the ledge and growled in frustration.