(hug)
"Such a naive child." Watching Conan finally collapse, Vermouth moved her throbbing arm and forced herself to stay conscious. "Since you refused to go to sleep nicely, I can only help you with a beating lullaby..."
But then again, Cool Guy was a high school student who neither smoked nor drank. Why had it taken so long to knock him out?
One Organization member stared at the sleeping Conan and fell into brief thought.
But Vermouth quickly realized that now did not seem like the time to be spacing out.
She kicked open the car door, letting in the fresh air free of anesthetic, then forced herself to pull a small item from her bag and stick it onto the tape recorder at Conan's waist.
A burst of static crackled, accompanied by a faint burning smell. Every bit of data inside the device was reduced to nothing.
Only after dealing with the aftermath did Vermouth finally let out a breath.
As her taut nerves relaxed slightly, her body swayed. She tumbled out through the car door and hit the ground.
Dry branches and rotten leaves crackled under her weight. The sudden sound made the other two people outside the bushes prick up their ears and stop what they were doing in unison.
"What was that?!"
At the edge of the woods, a blond-haired man withdrew his hand from Calvados's pocket and warily looked toward the dense thicket.
He nudged his red-haired companion with his elbow and whispered, "Is there someone in there?"
"Who could be in there? Probably a seagull!" The red-haired man crouched beside Calvados, happily rummaging through him.
"This guy has so many pockets all over him. Oh! There's even a hidden pocket inside his clothes. Let's see how much private cash he's got hidden away...