#175: Poirot: Gen
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vocab_drabblesTitle: The worried client
Fandom: Poirot
Rating: Gen
Length: 200
Prompt: specious
Summary: Poirot suspects a client is not telling all she knows.
“That young lady is worried about something,” observed Poirot when Hastings returned. “Yes, decidedly worried. Why?”
“I would’ve thought that would be obvious. The prospect of one’s young man being hanged for murder is a worrying state of affairs for any girl.”
“But the police case is specious to say the least. It will crumble now that Poirot is on the case.”
“Not everyone has such disdain for police methods nor confidence in yours, Poirot.”
“There is something else going on, something she is not telling us. Yes, I wonder…”
Hastings did not return to his chair but rather went to the coat rack. “She’s waiting for me downstairs, by the way. I’m taking her to tea. Some fresh air will do her a world of good.” He put on his coat and reached for his hat.
“Mon Dieu, you English and your obsession with the ‘fresh air.’ Nevertheless, I applaud you, my friend. This
is an excellent turn of events. She will not confide in Papa Poirot, very well. Perhaps she will unburden her heart to Captain Arthur Hastings, dashing man of the world. And the auburn-haired damsel in distress, you can resist them never.”
Hastings huffed and left.
Fandom: Poirot
Rating: Gen
Length: 200
Prompt: specious
Summary: Poirot suspects a client is not telling all she knows.
“That young lady is worried about something,” observed Poirot when Hastings returned. “Yes, decidedly worried. Why?”
“I would’ve thought that would be obvious. The prospect of one’s young man being hanged for murder is a worrying state of affairs for any girl.”
“But the police case is specious to say the least. It will crumble now that Poirot is on the case.”
“Not everyone has such disdain for police methods nor confidence in yours, Poirot.”
“There is something else going on, something she is not telling us. Yes, I wonder…”
Hastings did not return to his chair but rather went to the coat rack. “She’s waiting for me downstairs, by the way. I’m taking her to tea. Some fresh air will do her a world of good.” He put on his coat and reached for his hat.
“Mon Dieu, you English and your obsession with the ‘fresh air.’ Nevertheless, I applaud you, my friend. This
is an excellent turn of events. She will not confide in Papa Poirot, very well. Perhaps she will unburden her heart to Captain Arthur Hastings, dashing man of the world. And the auburn-haired damsel in distress, you can resist them never.”
Hastings huffed and left.
