Professor Layton and the Angel's Prophecy

Part Two: Old Faces

Dedicated to Akira Tago, puzzle master of the Layton series. If not for his phenomenal puzzles, the series just wouldn't be quite the same.

"Ah London," the man breathed, stepping out into the wintry air outside, inhaling it all as if it was a summer's breeze. "How good it is to be home!"

The teen by his side smiled.

"Dad, you make this sound like a holiday."

"Why can't it be, Luke?" Clark retorted. "Of course, there's this whole prophecy business, but we can see some familiar sights along the way can't we?"

Luke shook his head, adjusting his cap. He almost stood as tall as his father now, and his voice had deepened much in the past two years. What's more, he had changed considerably in his time in America. Even so, he still felt that calling he had as a child under the Professor's tutelage. But that's not what brought him there. Nor the threat to his life either. He was there to help a friend, as the Professor had done for him in the trial against Auriolus. Not that he needed incentive to help his friend.

"I suppose you're right. I mean, we don't exactly know where we are going, so we're bound to stumble around until we get somewhere."

A woman's voice startled them.

"Maybe I can help you then."

Luke spun furiously, unable to believe his ears. It couldn't be...

Yes, dressed in a yellow trench coat (a little different to the one Luke remembered), sleeker white tights, red boots, not green, and a purple bow tie, instead of her pink one, there was no mistaking this woman. She had changed her clothes after all these years – just as Luke had done now – and her hair was styled a little differently, parted to the right, a bit shorter, but she didn't look a day older. She was still the same:

"Emmy!" Luke cried, springing forward and throwing his arms around her. He squeezed her for a few seconds before remembering his manners. He pulled away, coughing awkwardly.

"I apologise..."

"Well someone hasn't changed at all," Emmy chuckled, her cheeks swimming with red.

"That's not true!" Luke protested, stomach dropping as he realised that he had just proved her point. "Well, you're only partially correct."

"I can see that. The Luke I knew was shorter, had a much higher pitched voice, of course, but more importantly, that Luke never apologised for hugging a friend."

Just as Luke had observed Emmy, she studied him. He really was a young man now. His head reached her nose, and instead of his usual blue sweater, he adopted a dark navy blazer, which rested over a prim white shirt and light brown vest. Now he sported a midnight blue fedora, his father's from his university days. In place of shorts, he wore royal blue trousers which met with polished dark leather shoes. In place of his old messenger bag, Luke sported a handy rucksack on his back, and Emmy could spot various items protruding. Mostly archaeological ones. She could conclude rather simply from that, that he took after his father.

Then there was his face. It was older of course, and framed by hair that really hadn't changed much. His eyes were still round and loveable, but they had an edge to them. As though he had gained much wisdom in these four short years. Yet despite the change in appearance, and his growth, it was still his voice that shocked her most. Deeper, and more refined. This wasn't the confused little boy she had loved to go on adventures with. Even so, she could still sense the inquisitive nature in him, and that was what was most important.

Luke felt deeply ashamed, but kept a stern face.

"I have learned much. Still more to become a proper gentleman."