Chapter Text
It’s not like they were friends. They didn’t text each other about the daily grind or how the other was feeling or anything like that. But it was an occupational hazard to run into your co-workers at crime scenes when you were both lawyers assigned to the same case.
So it wasn’t that uncommon that they ended up having lunch together.
Apollo took the two paper boats from the man and thanked him- one wrap and one hot dog. He reluctantly turned to the condiments, loading up the hot dog with ketchup, mustard, lots of relish (blegh) and topped it with salt and pepper. He struggled not to shudder.
“Trucy?” Klavier hazarded, picking up his own order. Apollo’s long-suffering look told him he was right on the nose. “Why did the young Fräulein want to come to a murder scene, anyway?”
Apollo looked over to the teenage girl, who was wowing a child in the distance with some colorful flags, then back at the hot dog in his hands. “She is unknowable. The kind of brain a scientist would love to get a look inside.”
“And the hot dog?” Klavier said, grinning slightly.
“She makes me buy her lunch. And the worst possible kind.”
Klavier feigned a gasp. “You mean you don’t think you should top pickles with pepper? What an amateur.”
Apollo leveled a look at him. “I personally think the only thing that should be on a hot dog is ketchup.”
Klavier’s nose involuntarily wrinkled, and Apollo allowed himself an internal laugh at the look: perfect blond hair, shiny jewelry, and the look of someone who just smelled a skunk. “Treasonous.”
The attorney dramatically turned away and looked back with the fakest air of indignation he could muster. “Oh, so you’re one of those people, huh?” The facade cracked as he started to smile. “The ones who believe ketchup is a crime against man and only mustard is allowed near your food?”
At that the other man laughed, dimples and all. “To be honest I don’t like either that much, but I do know that mustard is better any day.” They had reached a park bench, and Trucy was still engaging a now large group of children in a marvelous display of tricks and pulling things out of Mr. Hat, requested lunch forgotten. So Klavier sat, gesturing to the space next to him, and Apollo thought “why not?” and took it.
They both ate in silence for a few minutes, mesmerized by the flying cards and colors, until Apollo looked back down to see her revolting lunch beside him. “Surely ketchup on hot dogs isn’t the worst thing ever. I’m sure you have some weirder opinion.”
“Hmm?” Klavier shook out of a daze and thought for a second. “To be honest, I think steak is overrated.”
Apollo’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? No filet mignon for the millionaire heartthrob?”
The prosecutor rolled his eyes. “It’s just alright. I think a good cut of fish is always better. What about you?”
“Huh?”
“What’s your worst opinion on food?” he said, leaning with his elbow on the top of the bench and looking far too serious for the question asked.
“I think salad is fine without dressing.” Klavier looked horrified. “Look, being an attorney doesn’t pay much and there’s really no need for dressing on top of salad. It’s not like it adds anything nutritionally!”
“But the taste!” He looked absolutely revolted.
“Agree to disagree.” Apollo said, giving a little sideways smile. “At least we can agree that this,” he gestured to the relish monster, “isn’t how food should be eaten.”
“That,” Klavier said, “I think we can.”
At that moment the sound of boots tumbling through the grass caught up to them. “Polly!” Trucy said, grabbing one of Apollo’s arms in one hand and the hot dog in the other. “You got it just like I asked!”
“Please never commit such food crimes again,” he said, and she gave him her megawatt grin.
“No promises. Hi, Klavier!” the girl said as she dragged the attorney away.
Apollo shot Klavier an apologetic look over the shoulder, which was returned with a small smile and two-finger salute before dusting off his hands and picking up his work bag.
It wasn’t like they weren’t friends, either