-"Bye, Marc! Thanks for tonight!" exclaimed Lucas after my friend had gotten out of the car. 

Throwing his coat on his shoulders, he raised his left hand as a last farewell. In response, I waved mine. Turning on his heels, he went towards his home, swaying on his feet.

-"You're sure he can make it on his own?" inquired Lucas with concern. "I could've accompanied him, you know."

-"I know, I know," I sighed blissfully. "But I'm sure he-- hic!-- will manage. That's not the first time he does-- hic!-- that. Don't worry about him."

-"And you're sure you don't want me taking the wheel? I don't want to die on our way home," he said, an amused expression on his face. 

-"Oh, don't worry about me, too," I hiccuped again. "It's not the first time I-- hic!-- do it either, so I'll manage."

We waited for Marc to pass the gate and made sure he entered the mansion. After all the drinks we had, I was admittedly a bit scared of leaving him alone in the street. Some poor fellow might've met him by accident and got beaten up. Thankfully, he reached the portal without killing anybody on his way. After hearing the loud bang of the door, I turned the car back on and, with Lucas sitting by my side, drove off towards God-knows-where.

While driving, this evening's memories came back to me. Laughs, screams, and music echoed in my head.

Tonight had been quite a hectic night, to be honest. After entering the club, Marc had ordered us three "Cocktail Des Dieux," the one he said every Parisian should try at least once. To be fair, it was acceptable. Not as good as Marc had said, but it certainly boosted your adrenaline. At least, that was my opinion. Lucas, I'm afraid, didn't seem to agree with me, and definitely not with Marc.

As soon as the liquid had touched his lips, he had spat it out, and, unfortunately, it fell on a woman dancing near the bar next to us. We had spent the next thirty minutes arguing with her and persuading the bartender not to throw us out at the lady's demand. Luckily, whoever was her escort managed to convince her that dumbasses like us weren't worth arguing with or spending time over.

After that little incident, both Marc and I had ordered another drink and went on dancing with a few ladies. Lucas, being the shy little boy that he was, stood in a corner and watched us from afar. However, a few minutes later, a girl had approached him and started chatting with him. A grin had spread on my face when I saw him socializing, and so I had told Marc to give him and the girl some space.

Soon enough, the clock struck midnight. We stayed for an hour more but decided to leave when Marc had started hallucinating.

-"Paul! Watch out!"

Lucas's yelling brought me back to reality. Two shiny white circles were coming towards us at a speed my sweet little brain couldn't process.

With a jerk, Lucas made me let go of the steering wheel and turned it just in time to avoid the first-ever humanoid pancakes, or in other words, us crashing with the car heading our way.

-"Ouch, Lukie! That hurt," I scolded him.

In response, he took me by the arm and forced me to sit in the backseat, all the while never removing his right hand from the wheel.

Well, frankly, I never knew Lucas could have such a forceful grip. But then, when confronted with a life-or-death situation, I guess miracles happen?

After I landed in the backseat-- on my head, might I add--, Lucas took my place and continued driving as if nothing had happened.

Finally, we miraculously arrived in one piece. Where? I didn't quite remember that little detail, but if that place had a bed, a pillow, and a blanket, then it did not matter where Lucas had taken me.

We passed what looked like a museum and entered the staff room. Interesting. So I worked here? That kid never failed to amaze me.

I didn't notice it when we got out of the car, but I was leaning a bit too much on Lucas. We climbed a few staircases and walked through a few corridors, to eventually arrive at the dorm's floor.

-"Are you sure you can take it from here?" Lucas asked me.

-"Yes, boy. Don't worry."

He let go of me and went to open his bedroom door.

-"Good night, kiddo," I told him, and headed to my room, or so I thought. Just as I was celebrating me walking three steps without falling, I banged my head on Lucas's door.

-"Oh, sorry about that," he said, before murmuring a last goodbye and closing the door.

As to me, I walked toward my room. Tottering and stumbling down the hallway, I, fortunately, reached it in the end without any difficulties.

After barely managing to take my keys from my pocket, my trembling hands tried to enter it in the keyhole.

Surprisingly, as soon as the key got near the door, a second keyhole formed next to the first one. My eyebrows rose in surprise, although it wasn't the first time this had happened. Concluding that the real keyhole should be between the two illusions I was seeing, I tried to enter my key, but to no avail. The keyholes kept dancing around, multiplying every minute or so, and I desperately kept lunging forward with my key in hand, only to meet a rigid, wooden material, but never the hole in it.

After a while, I gave up and started tugging at the doorknob, trying to break the door open. That method didn't work either, which is why I started kicking the door, hoping it would finally crack and let me enter.

A few curses rose from the inside. There was someone in my room.

But why? Were they trying to rob me?

Lifting my keys in the air in case I needed to poke the burglar in the eye, I stepped forward--

--and fell on my face as soon as the thief inside opened the door to try and escape.

-"Paul, what the hell are you doing, man!?" he exclaimed.

I stood up on my feet again.

How come this robber knew my name? Was I famous among criminals?

The guy in front of me blinked.

-"I did it again," I sighed. "I said that aloud, didn't I?"

-"You did. And why am I a criminal, exactly?"

-"Wait, wait, wait. Before we continue this conversation, I need to know your name. I can't-- hic!-- discuss with someone I do not know the name of, even if they were thieves or murderers."

He rolled his eyes.

-"Is it like a prank or something? Because I can tell you that it's not in the least funny. I was peacefully sleeping, but then you started banging on that door like a wild animal, and-"

-"Your name," I ordered, glaring at him and trying my best to look terrifying.

-"Francesco," he finally gave in, a sigh of exasperation escaping his lips.

-"See, that's better! Now-- hic!-- we can properly talk."

I entered the room and let my gaze survey the place.

Noticing that there were two beds, one on each side, I turned towards Francesco.

-"So, are we roommates or something? I mean, why--hic!-- would there be two beds in my room? Or is that the bed of someone-- hic!-- else, and you were staying the night-"

-"The right bed is yours," he said dryly, cutting me short.

-"But how should I know which one is the right one?"

-"I meant the bed on the right, stupid."

-"Okay, okay!" I hiccuped again. "No need to get aggressive."

I tried to get past him and inside the room. Fate, however, didn't seem to agree with my plans, because for some unknown reason, I bumped straight into his chest.

-"You're drunk," he observed, raising an eyebrow at me.

-"Am not!" I replied.

-'Whatever," he said, putting an end to this conversation.

He turned on his heels and got back to his bed. As to me, I took a few more steps forward without falling on the floor.

I was just about to jump on my mattress and start sleeping when I saw the files and documents scattered on it.

I bent down to read the information written on those papers.

And that's when I remembered.

I still had work to do! I had no idea what day we were, but I had a feeling that if I didn't hand my boss the case by tomorrow, I might get in deep, deep trouble.

-"Oh, frick!" I exclaimed and started searching for a pen across the room. "Francesco, do you have a pen, perchance?"

He furrowed his eyebrows.

-"What?" he simply asked.

-"A pen. Do you have a pen?"

-"I heard you the first time. And nope, I do not. Why do you even want one at such a late hour?"

-"I have work tomorrow, and I still haven't finished that damn case! So, I need a pen!"

He stared at me, a blank expression stretching over his features. I swear I could see the cogs spinning in his brain while he pondered which reply would be the cruelest and most snarky one to say.

Finally, he answered: 

-"You know, maybe I do have a pen somewhere."

Oh.

That was definitely not the reply I expected from him.

-"Wonderful!" I told him anyway.

-"One question, though," he said, interrupting his pen search. "How do you want to work in the middle of the night if your job consists of you going around interrogating people? Isn't that a bit of an idiot move to leave your work until the last second?"

-"Hey! Don't you dare-- hic!-- insult my working skills! And give me a pen now!" 

-"Fine, fine!"

I waited for him to take out a small pen from his coat pocket. When he did, I snatched it out of his hand and went back to my bed.

I held the files in my left hand and the pen in the other.

I stayed in that position for a minute or so, not sure what to do first.

-"What do you think you're doing?" Francesco asked, outraged. The blankets had fallen off him as soon as he sat up to speak.

-"Umm, I don't-- hic!-- know?"

He shook his head.

-"Show me those files," he demanded.

Reluctantly, I handed him the documents.

After a few seconds of skim-reading, or rather, fighting with his inner voice-- because the expression on his face was exactly how I looked when I was arguing with my subconscious,-- he finally looked up and directed his gaze at me.

-"Want me to help?" he asked.

-"If you're smart enough, sure!" I blatantly said.

He narrowed his eyes.

-" Fine, fine! I-- hic!-- take it back! So, how do you want to start?"

-"You're asking me? I thought you were the professional detective here!"

-"Oh, right, right! My bad."

I scratched my head, trying to come up with something.

-"Maybe we could time-travel to that robbery night?" Francesco suggested hesitantly and then threw a look at the files still in his hands. "Saturday night, to be exact. We could go to that lady's house and wait until the thieve comes."

-"That's a marvelous idea! Alas, I'm afraid I don't know in which house she was that night. You see, that's the advantage of having-- hic!-- an actor as a husband. Ex-husband, now," I paused.

And didn't feel the need to continue.

Francesco tilted his head, eagerly waiting for the rest of my explanation.

-"Where was I? Ah, yes! So, as I was saying, the advantage of having a rich actor as a husband is that you can, each week, reside in a different mansion. Quite fancy, if you ask me. And that is why we cannot execute that plan of yours. But don't worry, I'll make sure to ask her-- hic!-- that question tomorrow, if I interview her."

-"But shouldn't that detail be mentioned in the file already?"

-"Oh, it surely was Ferdinand's son messing with the reports again. That poor man struggles to find a place to hide his files. His kids always find them and clutter their father's documents up. So this information is surely lost somewhere in his house."

-"So, what are you going to do then?"

-"Hmm," I said.

-"Yeah?"

-"Hmm," I mumbled again.

-"What are you doing?"

-"I'm thinking. You can do that too, you know."

-"That's exactly what I'm doing!" he groaned.

-"But something is missing," I told him. "You see, for the "thinking process" to work, it has to come straight from your-- hic!-- heart. You have to love what you're doing and..." I trailed off.

Francesco was giving me that look. The one that said: I don't give a damn, so please hurry up with your annoying speech.

-"Fine. You want to jump straight up to the secret ingredient of the process, huh? As you wish. The magic word is "hmm." You have to hmm to make it work. Just like "please" is the magic word for any favor."

-"I see. And I don't care."

-"That's good, that's good! The "I don't care" came straight out of your heart. I like it. Now, all you have to do-- hic!-- left is to add a little "hmm," and it'll be perfect. Go ahead, try it again," I advised him.

Much to my dismay, he didn't do as I told him.

I shrugged.

-"Okay, then. I'll think alone," I said, and waited for him to continue, urging him to speak with a flick of my hand. 

-"Hmm! You should've said "hmm"! What a difficult student you are," I ended, disappointed.

After that, an awkward silence stretched between us and filled the room. Francesco had laid down again and pulled his blankets up, and I was considering doing the same too. Maybe working now wasn't such a great motive.

But that's when an idea struck me.

Straightening back, I went towards Francesco's bed and started shaking him to wake him up.

-"I'm awake, I'm awake!" he jolted around as soon as I touched him. "You bloody bastard, I'm awake! No need to shake the living hell out of me!"

I must say, this unexpected snap threw me off guard.

-"I...umm... I'm sorry."

The apology escaped my lips before I could move a single muscle.

He sighed, his features softening.

-"What did you want?"

-"I had an idea."

-"Go ahead. I'm listening."

-"We could travel to the future, to the day where I'll be sitting at my desk, reviewing the case before giving it back to the boss. We could go there and take a look at the results, then get back and write them all down."

-"But what would be your proof? You can't say to your boss that you've solved the case by time-traveling to the future." 

-"Exactly. I can go and interview Pierrette or the culprit tomorrow morning, just before I head to my office. I'll ask her or him about what we already know, and eventually, they'll tell me everything-- hic!-- they know, sooner or later."

-"You're quite smart for a drunk man," Francesco remarked, raising an eyebrow.

-Of course, Frankie," I winked at him.

-"Whatever. Shall we go now?"

-"Oy! Let's do this!" I told him and grabbed his arm.

-"Tsk, tsk," he uttered and removed my hand from his arm. "I'll be the one taking us there. Judging by your state, I'm quite sure we'll end up in front of a dinosaur or something. So let me do the work."

-"But you don't even know what my office looks like!" I objected.

-"You did take me there a few hours earlier, remember? So I can picture that hallway we were in, and then you lead us to your office." 

-"Pff, fine," I inclined.

-"Plus," he added, "I need to change back into normal clothing. I can't go to your office in my pajamas."

As soon as these last words left his mouth, he went to the closet, took out his shirt and pants, and headed towards the bathroom.

When he came back, he grabbed my arm and took me to the office. After arriving at the second floor, I lead him to my desk.

-"You're sure we're at the right time?" I asked him after throwing a glance towards the empty chair.

-"I guess so, yeah. I pictured Mo- I mean, Saturday morning in my head."

-"Hmm. And where am I? Why am I not showing?"

-"You're seriously asking me those questions?"

-"Umm, I guess?"

-"And, that, boss, is how I finally solved the case," I heard the future me say.

-"Hide!" I told Francesco. "My boss and I are coming!"

Forcing him to lie down on the ground next to me, I tried to keep us both out of sight.

-"Phacocheret was indeed the one who robbed Pierrette, and-"

-"That's great and all Paul, but I don't have time to hear you talking about all these details. Just send me the files, and I'll study them later on in my office.

-"Crap! We didn't get time to see the file!" I whispered to Francesco.

-"What should we do?" Frankie asked.

-"They still haven't entered my office, so stand up right now and tell the future me that Marc needs me."

-"And what about your boss?"

-"Oh, right! Just say that he's needed-- hic!-- somewhere. It doesn't have to be accurate, because by the time they'll find out about the lie and get back, we would've already looked at the files and left. So go ahead, show us your lying and acting skills."

Following my little speech, he stood up. Shortly after, Mr. Gautier and I entered the office.

As soon as they saw Francesco, they halted.

Future Paul's eyes widened in recognition. However, when the boss asked him if he knew that guy, he quickly denied it.

-"Fantastic move!" my subconscious approved.

And that's when Francesco decided to speak up.

-"Paul, Marc needs you out there. He wants a detail about the case you were working on two weeks ago."

-"Excuse me, but who are you?" asked Mr. Gautier.

-"Oh, boss! You're here too! That's perfect. Jean asked me to tell you that they need you down the stairs."

-"Jean told you that? Oh, well. I guess I have to go now, Paul. You'll show me that file later on."

-"Sure, boss! I also have to go to Marc's for whatever information he needed."

After this little exchange, both of them turned on their heels and left.

-"I loved this improvisation!" I applauded him.

-"Yeah, well. Thank God there's someone named Jean here. Otherwise, I would've completely messed it up."

-"Yes, yes, of course. Now, let's take a look at those files."

-"Great idea," he agreed.

And, getting back up, we walked towards the desk and glanced at the files.

-"Which one should we look at?" Francesco inquired.

-"That one," I replied, taking one of the documents.

While reading the last report my future-self wrote, I slowly nodded, agreeing to all that was being said. The woman's reaction to this robbery was completely understandable. I mean, if something that valuable had been stolen from my house, I would've unquestionably called the police and a hundred other agencies, just to find out who did it.

Not being able to take it anymore, Francesco, ever the impatient guy, took the report sheet out of my grip and proceeded to read it.

His eyes widened with each line he read until they became as wide as a giant squid's eyes.

-"Stockings? Seriously? That woman sued her husband for stealing her stockings?"

-"Not hers," I indicated. "Read on."

-"The stockings of the woman he cheated with?" he asked, bewildered. Although, I noticed a glint of amusement in his eyes.

-"Aye. That's the truth. Phacocheret had invited this chick to his house, and she, unintentionally, left one of her stockings behind. Poor Pierrette had left it with her, as proof that her husband cheated on her, and-"

I was cut off by Francesco's laugh.

And what a laugh it was.

He screeched, snorted, and laughed out loud to his heart content.

-"HAHAHAHA," he laughed.

-"Ha?" I asked.

-"HAHAHAHAHAHA," he laughed some more.

-"I never knew you had it in you," I told him with a small smile.

But soon, I, too, had started laughing. My drunken mind wasn't quite able to process the cause of it, but it felt good. We stayed like that for a while, laughing and smiling.

Unfortunately, just like every other good moment, this one couldn't last forever. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the office.

-"Crap! We need to go back to the base!" Francesco reminded me. And, putting the files back on the desk, he grabbed my arm.

A few instants later, the door burst open, and in strode the future me, just in time to see two silhouettes shimmering in the air and disappearing.

When we got back to our room, each one of us slid in his bed.

And I swear I heard, just before drifting off to sleep, Francesco murmuring in a smug tone:

-"Oh, and roomie, by the way, tomorrow is Saturday, and not a Monday. Working on the case was totally not necessary and most certainly on purpose. You see, I don't think Amanda will be so fond of working with a hungover and half-asleep guy during the investigation tomorrow."