It had all the elements of just another job in the shadows, I suppose - gold lettering on the frosted-glass window, the flickering gold glow from the green lamp on the desk, and a girl across the desk with eyes smokier than her cigarette.

It wasn't the first job I'd found myself on the wrong side of, not by a long shot, but this one seemed different, right from the start. When that door had swung open, and when I'd seen her... I knew I could hardly put my eyes on anyone else. Elegant, in a way you don't see anymore, not since the war damn near tore the lights out of Paris, and with a skirt that drew my eye like a magnetic hand. Enough to draw me in and pull me to her, if her eyes didn't hold my gaze even harder.

And when she spoke... Christ. A white suit in spring, and I was still hot under the collar, every word that springs to mind blue as a summer sky. Still, everyone needs a good detective, time and again, even if they don't quite know what for. And right now? Well, there's certainly plenty of need on my end of the table.

"I might need your help, even if it gets... messy."

The most beautiful words in any language, coming from her. Sure, most who make a living turning up secrets might not want to get tangled up with your clients, but with this detective, and this client... My fingers slide up to adjust my tie before I even know it, whispering along the silk, and the weight beneath my shoulders is but a distant dream.

"I hope you can understand," I smile, "that I'd appreciate the utmost of discretion in return."

An eyebrow cocks elegantly above piercing eyes, and I let my lips curl up in an easy grin, by way of reply. "Unless you think you can't handle it."

That earns a laugh, a quiet exhalation, and smoke blows in the eddying draft from the fan across the desk. "Oh, I can handle myself just fine, but with what you say you've brought in..."

Glancing back at her name spelled out across the door, I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes for a moment and letting the faint notes of music from the club outside drift in. At least, for once, I've really got a plan. When I open them again, my hands are already moving, fetching the box from my pocket and sliding it across the table. Silver glitters within, and there, atop a stack of hard dollars, is the source of all my problems.

I nod, as her eyes flash before me. With a smile, I lean in, the creak of wood interrupted as the slim rectangle of black glass begins to ring, four notes falling out into the sudden silence between us.

"Now," I offer quietly. "I trust you'll take the job?"

A bit of a twist on the usual noir tropes... for a reason, as anyone picking up on the inspiration for this will no doubt guess. But if it's just a mystery... well, that's rather the point, isn't it?

Why not dive into the city with a mysterious man, after all? It's always a good time.

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