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Mr. Wright is regaling them with the tale of Wendy Oldbag’s latest attempt to win the affection of Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth over lunch when Athena says casually:
“Why doesn’t he just try indicting her? That’s how I got over Apollo.”
Apollo, in response, drops his rewarmed spaghetti all over himself.
Mr. Wright raises a distinctive eyebrow. “Oh? This is news to me.”
Athena unwraps her monster-sized dagwood layered sandwich, totally unheeding of the minor crisis occurring to her left. “Is it? I didn’t think I was exactly hiding it. Apollo’s good looking, and he was really supportive when I really needed it. Of course I’d be into him.”
Apollo sits staring rather stupidly with a lap full of noodles.
“He’s not… a little dorky?” Mr. Wright asks, and when Apollo glares at him, Mr. Wright winks. Apollo starts sadly scooping his spaghetti back into the container.
“That’s part of the appeal! He’s the type girls like- a big brother type, cool but dorky, all warm and welcoming and juuuuust out of reach. I bet all Trucy’s friends have a crush on him. Junie sure did- felt kind of bad about it, actually, though she’s pretty happy with whatever’s going on with Robin and Hugh, so. The point is, Mr. Edgeworth is the Chief Prosecutor. He could totally pull some strings and get her to back off with one teensy little indictment.”
“I think that’s abuse of power,” Mr. Wright says sagely, reaching into his desk drawer to withdraw an entire wrapped roll of paper towels, tossing them to Apollo. Which: why? But also: how handy. “Anyway, it’s not a full proof method. I got indicted once, and-”
Mr. Wright cuts himself off mid-word, his grin growing a little wild. “What I meant was, uh. Sometimes extenuating circumstances, all that. Is it hot in here? I think it’s hot. Athena, crack the window, will you?”
Athena puts down her sandwich, which is now missing cartoonishly huge bites. Then she dabs at her mouth daintily with a napkin before turning to the window in question.
“Jeez, Apollo, what’s with the mess?” she asks critically. He sputters and she grins, bright and beautiful.
…. Beautiful?
“Fuck,” Apollo mutters quietly, going to throw his ruined lunch away.