Charitable Deeds

Damnit, Layton

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It had been several years since the Future London incident, and several more since that of the Azran Legacy. Jean Descole, or rather Desmond Sycamore, had gotten back into archeology as a professor at Gressenheller university. It was tough on him, the guilt of all he had done while wearing that darned White mask, but nobody else knew it was him. Nobody except his brother and those assistants of his. Desmond sighed as he got up from the desk at his office, getting ready to go home. He looked around, deep in thought.

"Master, are you feeling alright?" It was Raymond, Desmond's loyal assistant and longest living friend.

"I'm quite fine, thank you very much," Desmond replied hastily. "I just don't think I'll ever get over what happened all those years ago, especially with that thing still around."

He was of course referring to the white mask, the biggest part of his alter ego. Without it, the other Professor would have recognized him in an instant. Desmond flinched, remembering that day he revealed himself to Layton. Descole had died that day, in more ways than one. He could not bear to think about it.

"I suppose it is time to leave," Desmond said to no-one in particular.

"Yes, master. It is getting late. I will take your bags."

After Raymond left, Desmond was by himself. He looked at his notes, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn't.

"How does that Layton manage to solve everything so easily," he said, slamming his hand onto the table.

"He doesn't," a voice says from the open doorway. The door wasn't open the whole time, was it? No, Raymond closed it on his way out. It must've been unlocked. But who just spoke?

"Who are you," Desmond said in a lower voice than normal, then instantly realized what he had done. Still staring down at his notes, He tried again. and in a more steady, sycamore-like way, he stated "I would like to know the identity of whatever student just broke into my office. I am a professor after all."

"My name is Charity. I know you are a professor. You may find, however, that I am not a student."

At that last sentence, Desmond turned around. "Why are you here?"

"The other Professor told me about you, Mr. Sycamore." Desmond cast her a quizzical look before the lady said "Professor Layton, I mean."

"What is your relation to Professor Layton," Desmond asked, now quite curious about this whole affair.

"Umm... It's complicated," the woman replied without answering. "However, there are some things he has told me about you-"

"Listen here, Charity," Desmond interrupted with an almost growl. "Whatever he may or may not have told you is none of your concern. I don't need help from his little 'friends' anymore. I'm a Professor, not a child."

"Sir he told me you needed-"

"I don't need your help, little lady," Desmond interrupted again with a voice more akin to Descole's. not even bothering to correct his tone, he stood up and started walking out his office. "If you'll excuse me, my butler is waiting for me."

And with that, Desmond was off, leaving poor charity behind.

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"I take it the meeting didn't go too well?" The Professor asked, pouring a cup of tea for Charity.

"No," She answered truthfully. "He seemed... worried about something."

It was around nine in the evening, and Charity was sitting at the table in Professor Layton's house's dining room. Layton had generously let her stay overnight as a guest, as he had an empty guest room and Charity had no true place to stay.