“…O-Okay, wait! Can you help me, Adachi-san? I…uhm..I’m struggling a little.”
He stared at her to the...tumultuous mess of doughnuts and pastries and coffee boxes (with...a singular orange juice box?) haphazardly organized. The pile teetered threateningly before them.
Had this been her idea? This much? Had she mistyped the amount when ordering? Had the store made a mistake? Had someone pulled a seemingly harmless prank on the police station and Miyamoto herself was simply attempting to put some order into the impending the disaster?
One box teetered so heavily the lid was askew and a doughnut had begun sliding out. The detective reluctantly caught it moments before it dirtied the ground - a feat that would have been far more impressive if he hadn’t panicked and missed grabbing it the first time. For one very brief moment he sighed in relief and stood back up properly.
Then he stared at the pile again. And sighed.
“...Sure...I guess... It’s not like Dojima-san isn’t going to order us to clean this up once he sees it anyway...”