"All right, Trafalgar," Selara said, smoothing the line of her dress with one hand. Today she had finally dressed like a director representing the Academy instead of an alchemist who had escaped her laboratory by accident. "Obviously, that paper was only for appearances. Soone could have glanced over and noticed you holding a blank sheet, so I improvised."
Trafalgar lowered his attention to the folded paper in her hand. "You improvised alchemical breakfast."
"It sounded harmless."
"It sounded like sothing you'd actually assign."
Her mouth flattened. "Careful."
He let the comnt die there. Her clothes, her tone, the empty space where her usual amusent should have lived - all of it told him this was not one of her gas.
"So," he said, folding his arms loosely, "what did you want to discuss in private? I'm guessing this is about your master."
Selara's fingers tightened once around the paper before she tucked it away. "Yes. You are going to help with an investigation."
"Help you?"
"More precisely, you're going to pretend to be my assistant."
Trafalgar blinked. "You do realize I'm easy to recognize, right?"
"No," she said, far too quickly. "You're easy to recognize when you dress like Trafalgar du Morgain, walk like Trafalgar du Morgain, and let that ridiculous presence of yours announce you before your mouth opens. With glasses, a few adjustnts, and better clothing, you'll pass as a young assistant long enough."
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