Chapter Text
Trucy tells stories with drama, maybe too much of it. She doesn’t care too much - she’s a performer at heart, and to play with her audience’s emotions is a gift she accepts with grace and charm and ease. There are certain stories she strays from telling. Real-world drama isn’t her forte - it makes her sad or anxious just as much as it makes her listeners. But there are times when a story requires telling, and Trucy knows she can tell it well, get all of the points across and not leave out any details. Her father knows this.
Which is exactly why she is the first witness called to the stand when she is accused of her brother’s murder.
It begins, she tells them, (because Trucy understands the importance of making a story seem current when she wants people invested), on February 14of 2030. Valentine’s Day.
The tiredness of late afternoon has seeped into the air, and that, along with the pouring rain outside, quiets the atmosphere of the Wright Anything Agency. Trucy is sitting on a dingy old couch, her feet up on the coffee table and her computer in her lap, trying to find inspiration for new tricks. Apollo is seated at a desk on the other side of the room, glancing between a case file and his clunky old computer. Occasionally, Trucy notices the aggressive clacking of keys when Apollo types something out.
A few hours pass like this. Apollo pulls out other files to cross-reference, Trucy distracts herself watching videos of fruit bats. When Klavier Gavin walks in, wearing his typical purples and darker purples and ringing the bell above the door, Trucy doesn’t think much of it. Klavier puts one boot on the counter and leans close to Apollo - it gives him extra height, though Trucy doesn’t think he needs it, especially not with Apollo sitting down - it prompts Trucy to look over. For a second, she thinks Apollo’s actually managed to form a decent sentence in relation to Klavier (a first) and ask him out, because from where she’s seated it looks like they’re about to kiss.
“Having trouble rebuking me, Forehead?” Klavier asks. His voice is accented, though it doesn’t affect his ability to be understood in the slightest. He’s all pretty hair and tight clothes and sexy accent and Trucy wonders for a moment how he keeps it all up at once.
“You wish.” Apollo says, loudly, because he never learned to be quiet and somewhere in his mind he equates loud noises with masculinity and so he isn’t about to stop any time soon. He bangs his fist on the desk. “You’re going to be begging for mercy in court tomorrow.”
Trucy resists the urge to say what pops into her head. Embarrassing her brother in front of Athena is funny, but she thinks doing it in front of his dumb crush is a little bit more mean than is excusable.
“I’m sure,” Klavier laughs. “If you’re assured of your victory, you wouldn’t mind if I-,” He makes a grab for the file on Apollo’s desk, but Apollo snatches it up.
“Not on your life,” He laughs as Klavier’s move unbalances him and he topples over the desk. “You here to pick me up?” Apollo asks, offering a hand and wrapping his coat around his shoulders. It’s a burgundy thing, worn from years of age but still thick and warm.
“Ach. I was, but maybe I’ll change my mind, du Arsch. ” Klavier pats where his shoulder hit the ground hard, playfully rolling his eyes.
“Where are you going?” Trucy asks.
“There’s a discount at the cinema down the street for couples, and we both want to see that new crime thriller-,”
“ Cold Cases, Cold Bodies,” Klavier provides.
“Yeah. So we figured we’d, you know, go together. Put on, uh, a ruse.” Apollo shrugs.
Trucy gives him a look, and he glares back at her. “Have fun,” She says. “Tell me if it’s any good.” Then they’re out the door.
Trucy laughs, grabs her phone from the table.
ur going on a FAKE DATE with klavier just b cause u both wanted to see a movie and theres a discount.
Yes???
AHKAJFHKJASDHKF KLAVIER IS RICH AS FUCK HE DOESNT NEED A DISCOUNT
Trucy watches as the dots that mean Apollo is typing appear, disappear, appear, disappear again, appear, and then stay gone. She laughs, turns her text notification sounds back on (in case Apollo thinks of a rebuttal), and puts her phone back down on the table, sending a final message.
IDIOT ASS <3
Athena leaves her “office” (it’s a side closet - Athena insists she works best in tightly enclosed spaces), and, seeing Trucy sprawled out on the couch in the slowly fading sunlight, asks, “You need a ride home?”
Trucy swings her legs onto the floor and stuffs her laptop into her bag. “If you wouldn’t mind. Lemme tell daddy so he doesn’t worry.” She swings the door to Phoenix’s office open, and he doesn’t look away from the corkboard he’s got tangled in pins and red string. “Athena’s driving me home. Love you.”
“Love you too, Truce.” He says, wholeheartedly, and his shoulders go slack, like he was holding onto some great tension that is gone now that he’s been reassured of his daughter’s affection for him.
Athena’s car is cramped and messy, but it’s more endearing than it is appalling. Trucy eyes the water bottles in between the front seats, though, , which roll around, and she moves them farther back.
Athena drops her at Phoenix’s house, and she unlocks the door and steps inside. Her Papa is inside - he’s watching the news, none of it the important stuff.
“Ms. Wright,” He says, turning to her. He’s got the glint in his eye that means he’s not really being serious, just teasing her. “How has your evening been?”
“Why, just fine, Mr. Edgeworth.” Trucy says, leaning over the back of the couch. “And yours?”
“I made myself tea, so I like to think it’s going quite well.”
“Tea!? You got any water that might still be warm left?”
“I made it with milk, in the microwave, because I’m weak. ” Edgeworth says. “Though you might feel free to do the same.”
“You win in court today?” Trucy asks.
“You don’t win in court. It’s not a battle. It’s a search for the truth.”
“OKK, but like, did you win in court?”
He sips his tea, and for a moment Trucy thinks he’s not going to answer her. “Yes, I won in court. What do you take me for?”
“Hell yeah!” She grins, reaches out a hand for a high-five, and he high-fives her. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Papa. Love you.”
“Goodnight, my dear. I love you, too.”
Trucy doesn’t go to sleep for a few more hours. She scrolls through twitter, bored but not tired enough to coax her brain into sleeping. Once she’s finally decided to actually try sleep, she gets a text back from Apollo. 11:23 PM, she notes. Must've been a long movie.
Fuck you, Trucy Wright.
She laughs.
im going to bed now, tell me about your “date” in the morning
i expect details >:)
bet u wont even be able to summarize the movie BITCH
too busy looking at klaviers face BITCH
ily <3