Triumphant Toast

Sunday, the final day off before another week of hard labour. Those old enough would not bat an eye on the vast flow of time that moves them closer to the workdays, but those who came of age just recently, were defenceless against annoying jitters before Monday. But for every situation an exception could be found, either courageous or ignorant individuals, who were not afraid to look into the eyes of tomorrow's work routine. And those few exceptions were Eugene and his friends.

The dimly lit pub was overflowing with smoke from the cigars of the elderly and classy tunes of trumpet and hoarse but soft voice of American star Louis Armstrong. Here and there spread the voices of young men and older gentlemen, even rare laughter of women arose from time to time only to be once again lost in the slow melody of jazz. Suddenly a clank of glass grew around the table in the back along with the happy uproar of some young gentlemen. One of them was Eugene, whose cheeks were bright red from both shame and alcohol. All eyes were on him, the young man was the star of this gathering.

While everyone else had a gulp of their whisky, a man with neatly trimmed hair and a slick three-piece suit, Douglas, happily exclaimed, "Congratulations, pal, you have become a man! I am really proud of you."

"Nothing happened between us!" retaliated Eugene while hitting the glass cup on the table, "Sylvia is not that kind of woman, we just walked in the park. Had fun… I hope."

Whether from the alcohol or from the memories of his date, Eugene's mood sulked and his head dropped. Afterwards, the man sitting beside him pat his shoulder and tried to reassure him by saying, "All is good, Eugene, it could not go that badly."

"Of course, it did not!" suddenly Eugene jumped back up and faced his friend, "I just could not squeeze out any topic for conversation out of my head, so I started asking stupid questions. Thankfully, she went along with it."

Upon hearing the explanation of his hardship, Douglas laughed, but another man showed a reassuring smile. His name was Lawrence Tucker, a man with a larger build of them all, but with a kind heart. He leaned back into the seat and took a sip out of his glass of whisky, although it did not look like he drank any. This gave an opportunity to have a say for the 4th person present today.

"And what kind of stupid questions?"

The one to speak was Maurice Carsten, the well, though a little sloppily, dressed young man with a darker skin tone from the rest. He wore glasses, that did not quite fit him and thus, the man frequently adjusted them. Despite having a few emptied glasses of whiskey, his gaze was still as sharp as a testing blade. He observed Eugene thoroughly and was awaiting an answer to his question.

Eugene did not stretch the expectations, the happenings of yesterday were still fresh in his mind. The man said, "About flowers and such, mainly about plants. Sylvia surprisingly knows a lot."

"Just about plants?" clarified Maurice, to which Eugene replied, "Yeah, about plants, flower language and such."

"Wow, no wonder you were so stressed. I am surprised how she did not ditch you from the very beginning!"

Douglas was the one to leave this pesky comment. Afterwards, he laughed, which further annoyed Eugene. The man gave him a frightening glare, but alas, alcohol was strong enough poison to soften his facial expression. Douglas did not take him seriously. Maurice, on the other hand, looked away to fetch a waiter wandering around. Yet another glass was emptied by him.

"At least, I am not infected with syphilis like some dock whore." caustically said Eugene. These harsh words shut Douglas completely, and now he bore the face of wrath, "Who the hell are you calling dock whore, you little shithead?"

Eugene was not intimidated in the slightest, he raised his head and calmly answered, "The one sitting right in front of me."

At first, Douglas clicked his tongue, but then he smiled, stood up and cracked his knuckles, "Do you want to go out?"

Eugene also stood up, his boiling blood painted the face red. And now their eyes were locked on each others, from time to time they, however, they jumped from one person to another, awaiting something. At this point, their conversation was overheard, and some people faced towards them. Even the barista was glaring at the loud company with a side gaze. His hands were on the table, and besides stood a half dry glass and a towel. Maurice also was just silently observing the stare-down of the two. This time, the one to stop the tension from exploding was Lawrence. He also stood up, and his large frame dwarfed those who were seconds ago ready to bite into each other's throats.

"Well, I guess there is nothing we can do here. If we start fighting, Lawrence will just beat our asses, right, Eugene?" said Douglas and sat down, meanwhile, Eugene answered, "If you insist that we should not fight, Lawrence, then there is indeed no way we will."

"You, guys, are such cowards…" sighed Lawrence and sat back down. And while Douglas turned away from Eugene and Maurice shook his head in disappointment, Lawrence took this opportunity to further speak with Eugene, "Is this how the story went for you? And no dangerous adventures in your path?"

Eugene narrowed his brows and faced the man with a smug smile, "For the record, everything that happened in Paris was truth! And I now have proof!"

Eugene took the rolled newspaper out of his deep pocket and put the paper on the table. This attracted the attention of everyone present, both Douglas and Maurice along with Lawrence leaned towards the opened page. There, they could witness Eugene, whose hand accidentally hid Sylvia's face away from the camera. It likely happened due to his aggressive gesticulations while he played as her bodyguard. Under the picture, the three could read an article about the innocence of "The Death Surgeon" being confirmed by a member of the la Avise family.

"What the hell!? You are in the newspapers!" exclaimed Douglas and pat Eugene on the shoulder. The man snorted proudly and said to the other two who were observing the article in astonishment, "We solved the crime and no police was involved there! And you two had an audacity to disregard my words!"

"Because it sounded too bizarrely!" said Lawrence and further leaned towards the picture, "You are now a celebrity huh. And where is Sherlock going to solve another case?"

"About that, while on our date, we met with a reporter who introduced us to the mystery of "Phantom Cormorant". Have you heard about this thief?"

The two men curiously shook their heads, while the third one buried his head in a newspaper by himself. Eugene continued, "This is a thief that steals expensive pieces of art and leaves a black origami of a cormorant. He had done it throughout all of France, and now he is in this town!"

"Huh? What do you mean?" asked Douglas, to which Eugene replied, "Do you remember that small café in the park de la Piquette? From there an expensive plate was stolen, and in its stead was left an origami of a cormorant. Sylvia appeared to be interested in solving this theft, although she refused to cooperate with the reporter that told us about this incident in the first place."

"Oh, no…" whispered Lawrence and cast his gaze aside, "I feel really bad for the working lady, she was always so proud of that dish."

"To my surprise, she did not seem too upset. It might as well be a replica or something." suggested Eugene, but then Douglas retaliated, "Maybe, but would not such an infamous thief know the difference between a replica and a real deal? Your painting might actually be under threat!"

"You mean the one Jessie suggested me to buy? Come on, as if that street artist will become famous overnight for his work to be stolen!"

Douglas hummed, but then nodded in agreement. However, another concern was raised by Lawrence who said, "But what about that huge painting in Monso Rooster? Would not it be better to hide it somewhere?" 

"I will talk about it with Arnold tomorrow, but I doubt he will listen to me. But you have the point, that painting is quite valuable."

Eugene directed his gaze at the one who was not present in a discussion of art. Maurice still delved in loud texts of the newspaper without any concern for those around him. Over time, Eugene was not the only one to notice his fixation, soon all three of them were burning Maurice with their eyes. However, their presence had no effect on him and so, Douglas broke the silence.

"Did Eugene's debut as a detective surprised you so much that it got you paralysed?"

Finally, Maurice raised his head and revealed his pale face, full of concern. His trembling hands pushed the newspaper towards his friends, and the man said, "Have a look at it yourself."

His finger pointed at an article that was a few pages away from the article about Eugene's and Sylvia's deed in Paris. There, a photo of an Austrian street resided with a few carriages and a poster in German that was hung from the buildings. The article name stated: "German chancellor triumphantly enters Vienna".