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“We’ve got a visitor coming today.”
Apollo glanced up from his desk and stared at Phoenix oddly. “…Huh?”
Phoenix stood near the desk corner, shifting awkwardly in his hoodie. He’d shaved his face that morning, which made him look slightly less haggard and unkempt, but no amount of hygiene would fix the frown plastered across Phoenix’s lips.
“A visitor,” Phoenix repeated quietly. “From Europe. She’s stopping by the office once Trucy’s done her classes.”
“Okay,” Apollo replied lamely, unsure of what else to say. He’d already tidied the office, organized Trucy’s magic props, and scrubbed the bathroom to a shine. “So… what about it? Is it a client?”
Phoenix shrugged and turned away, hiding his glum expression from Apollo’s view. “No, just someone I know. Thought I’d give you a heads-up before she dropped in.”
Apollo’s boss was so rarely this… uncertain. Sure, Phoenix was often aloof and cynical and had a fondness for being infuriatingly vague, but this was different somehow. Phoenix shifted again, sticking his hands in and out of his pockets repeatedly. Apollo’s bracelet threatened to bruise his wrist with how tightly it squeezed against his skin.
There was no mistaking it. Phoenix Wright was very, very nervous.
Apollo wondered if he should press the issue. Who could possibly cause Phoenix such distress? What sort of business could a visitor—all the way from Europe, no less—possibly have at a run-down law office with only one attorney?
But before Apollo could voice a question, Phoenix was already moving to leave. “I need to go buy stuff for dinner,” he muttered, shambling towards the door. He threw a glance over his shoulder and smiled grimly at Apollo. “Let me know if any clients come in.”
“Sure, whatever,” Apollo sighed. He picked up his pen again and resumed his work, pointedly ignoring Phoenix until the man finally left.
Apollo supposed he would have to wait and find out what the big deal was. It wasn’t the first time Phoenix kept Apollo in the dark, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
About twenty minutes later, the door creaked open once again.
Apollo expected Phoenix to waltz inside, but instead, Apollo met the gaze of a stern-looking woman in formal attire. Her light-coloured hair was sheared into a pixie cut, and her neck was adorned with a blue jewel and white ruffles of fabric. She looked immaculate and professional—which was more than Phoenix could ever claim to be.
“Can I help you?” Apollo asked.
The woman narrowed her eyes and scowled. “…He’s not here, is he?”
“You mean Mr. Wright? No, he went out to grab some groceries.” Apollo pushed his papers aside and stood up straight. “I can take a message for you if you’d like. Are you looking for legal representation?”
“Certainly not. I have no use for an attorney.” The woman’s scowl curled upward slightly. “And yes, I would love for you to leave him a message. Please inform Phoenix Wright that he’s a terrible host.”
“Host?” Apollo repeated. The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place. “…Oh, you must be that visitor he mentioned. You’re from Europe, right?”
“…Franziska.” She offered Apollo a small, almost sarcastic bow. “And you must be Wright’s new apprentice, is that correct?”
“Apollo Justice.” He walked over and shook her hand firmly, just like his law professors taught him to. Franziska’s grip was much tighter than he’d expected. “You can wait for Mr. Wright on the couch if you want. I’ll make you some tea.”
“Fine.” Franziska sat on the couch and crossed her legs. An irritated huff and a snap of her fingers. “Earl Grey. No sugar.”
Apollo rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. He simply retreated into the side room, flicked on the electric kettle, and brewed two cups of tea: Earl Grey for Franziska, and a simple herbal blend for himself.
When Apollo returned to the lobby, Franziska hadn’t moved an inch. She tapped her finger on the armrest over and over, growing more impatient with every passing second. Apollo had dealt with worse people than this, though, and wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He remembered his manners and kept his face neutral.
Franziska’s eyebrow quirked up when Apollo handed her a teacup, but after taking a sip, she settled into the sofa with a satisfied smile. Apollo took a seat across from her in a ratty chair Phoenix refused to throw away.
“…Not bad,” Franziska hummed. “Who taught you to brew tea? Certainly not Wright, I’m sure.”
“My old boss,” Apollo said curtly, not wanting to delve into much detail. Franziska nodded sagely, which was pretty funny. Apollo doubted that she’d understand the pain of having a trusted mentor convicted of murder. “So, um… are you a friend of Mr. Wright’s?”
Franziska took a long, contemplative sip of tea. “No, not a friend,” she eventually settled on saying. “He’s my brother’s colleague. I’ve faced him in court a few times.”
“You’re a prosecutor?” Apollo blinked a few times. “How long have you been doing that for?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
Apollo choked and spat out his drink. “What?!”
“I took an accelerated course of study,” Franziska explained, looking a tiny bit too smug. “And in my country, age regulations are much different.” Her smirk fell, giving way to a troubled frown. “I’m surprised, though. Wright said that you would recognize me.”
“What?” Apollo racked his brain for a moment, trying to remember if Phoenix ever mentioned this woman before. Not that he’d actually remember if he did—Apollo usually zoned out whenever Phoenix busted out an old anecdote from his time as a lawyer.
Franziska shook her head. “Nevermind.” She took another sip. “I'm considering reaching out to the Department of Education… to complain about their curriculum. My absence from their law textbooks is an affront to the legal profession.”
Apollo wasn’t sure what to say to that. He nursed his own tea in silence, praying foe Phoenix to return from his shopping trip sooner than later.
The silence was awkward, and Apollo strained to keep himself from talking about the weather. But before Apollo could break under the thickness of the quiet, Franziska spoke up. Her expression was surprisingly dark and grim.
“I knew the man personally,” she said.
“Who?”
“Your mentor. Kristoph Gavin.”
Apollo’s grip on his mug tightened a bit, his knuckles going white from the pressure.
“He used to live in Berlin. I spoke with him at various galas and banquets.” Franziska paused. The air grew even thicker as the unwelcome conversation carried on. “We met in court once or twice, too. It was a shame when he moved back to the States—few attorneys posed such a challenge for me as Kristoph Gavin did.”
“I don't…” Apollo’s tongue was heavy in his mouth. He forced himself to speak through the dryness of his throat. “I don’t want to… talk about it.”
Franziska looked at Apollo expectantly, waiting for him to speak again.
“Don’t mean to be rude or anything,” Apollo continued, mumbling his way through an apologetic explanation. “It’s just… hard. To think about, I mean.” His shoulders, which were tensed up moments ago, began to slump over. He couldn’t meet Franziska’s eyes. “…I’m still not over it.”
Franziska laughed aloud.
Apollo’s melancholy gave way to unbridled rage. “Oh, so it’s f–funny, is it?” Apollo snarled, slamming his tea on the nearby table. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden tabletop.
“Yes, it is quite funny, actually,” Franziska admitted, wiping a single tear of mirth from her eye. She smirked at Apollo and spoke again. “Let me tell you a story, Apollo Justice. My father was a very famous prosecutor. He didn’t lose a single case in his 40-year-long career. Did you know that?”
Apollo’s fists clenched, but he remained seated in the ratty office chair. He had to stay calm and civil—Phoenix wouldn’t be happy if Apollo punched his precious European visitor. “…No, I didn’t.”
“He was ruthless and unyielding. Perfect. And he taught me everything I know. There’s not a single man on the planet who was more capable than my father.” Franziska’s smile fell slightly. She seemed distant. “He was arrested about ten years ago… for murder.”
Two words. It took only two words for Apollo’s rage to subside. He stared at Franziska with his mouth slightly agape. Her father, a convicted killer? Apollo wouldn’t have ever guessed.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Franziska waved her hand, annoyed with Apollo’s gawking. “It was a long time ago… and I’ve come to terms with my loss. But you, young man,” she continued, pointing at Apollo accusingly, “still haven’t finished grieving.”
“I’m working on it,” Apollo grumbled.
“No, you aren’t. You’ve sulked, but you haven’t grieved.” Franziska set her tea aside and interlaced her gloved fingers. She rested her chin on the edge of her hands and gazed at Apollo expectantly. “You cared about Kristoph Gavin. I can see it in your eyes.”
Apollo sneered at the bold accusation. “He was a murderer. I don’t miss him one bit.”
Franziska laughed again. “See, this is the funny part,” she said with an amused grin. “I said the exact same thing when my father was executed.”
Apollo didn’t have a response for that. He kept his eyes squarely on his shoes, refusing to meet Franziska’s intense gaze.
“Talk to me, Apollo Justice. Tell me about your relationship with Kristoph Gavin.” Her voice was quieter now, firm but gentle, like a concerned parent speaking to their child. It was out of the blue, and Apollo was taken aback by how… kind she sounded.
Apollo licked his lips. He didn’t say anything at first, hoping that maybe Franziska would drop the subject if he made her wait long enough, but she stayed perfectly still.
The silence got to Apollo, and he relented a little too quickly.
“I was a bad kid,” Apollo sighed. He cursed himself for his poor resolve, but Franziska gestured for him to continue, so he kept talking. “I couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months. Got into fights with my foster parents, kids at school… pretty much anyone who looked at me funny.”
Franziska pursed her lips. “I’m surprised you got into law school with that kind of ethic.”
“I didn’t want to go to law school at first.” Apollo scowled deeply. “I wanted to get emancipated and move somewhere far away.”
“…So what changed?”
“Jake Walkner. He was my foster parent for a few months… until his car went missing.” Apollo’s angry fervour faded away. He felt so meek and scared like he was suddenly a frightened child over again. He hated feeling like this, especially in the presence of someone he’d only just met. “He told the police I stole it. They busted into my math class and arrested me in front of the other kids.”
“Did you?” Franziska asked. “Steal the car, I mean.”
“No, but… everybody thought I did.” Apollo smiled sadly. “Not that I blame them. Stealing a car would have been pretty characteristic of me.”
Franziska’s fingers folded tighter against her hands.
“When I was in the detention centre, I got a call from a lawyer who wanted to take my case pro bono...” Apollo bit his lip, hard enough to threaten the drawing of blood. “…and that was the first time I met Mr. Gavin.”
“…Kristoph defended you for free?” Franziska seemed genuinely shocked. She leaned back in her chair and plucked up her tea once more, cradling it like a bag of popcorn from the movie theatre. “A troubled teen accused of grand theft auto… I’m surprised he bothered with that kind of case.”
Apollo nodded grimly. “It only took him one hour to acquit me. Turns out Jake’s ex-girlfriend stole the car and drove it off a bridge in San Fransisco.”
The remnants of those memories flooded upon Apollo—and for a moment, he was back in the defendant’s chair, watching Kristoph come to his aid, like a knight in shining armour. It was a breathtaking experience, seeing someone so capable dismantle the prosecution’s arguments in so few words.
That was the moment Apollo decided he wanted to be an attorney. He would never forget that moment for as long as he lived.
Franziska seemed to understand this. She continued to stare at Apollo, waiting for him to finish his story.
Apollo wrung his hands together over and over. His bracelet tightened in response to his own nervous tells. “Mr. Gavin got me into Themis Legal Academy. He even paid for my tuition and rent.” Apollo flicked his badge absently as if its presence on Apollo’s lapel was somehow offensive. “Every time I look at my badge… or think about how far I’ve come… I hear Mr. Gavin’s voice… saying how proud he is of me.”
“…Kristoph Gavin was a terrible person, Apollo Justice. He was a killer, a forger, and a liar.” Apollo opened his mouth to agree, but Franziska cut him off. “But he was still your teacher. You’re allowed to grieve him, just as I grieved the loss of my father.”
“I don’t want to grieve him,” Apollo whispered. “I want to forget about him. But he’s everywhere.” The words stung, and Apollo flinched roughly at his own words, but he continued anyway. “My penmanship, the way I organize my files, the reason I became an attorney… it all reeks of Mr. Gavin. I can’t get him out of my head. He’s the reason I’m who I am, and I hate that.”
Franziska heaved a long, hard sigh. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face and scrunched her nose disgustedly.
“My father taught me to play the piano,” she said. “He taught me to speak German, to flourish my T’s and P’s with extra swirls…”
“You—”
“—don’t interrupt me. I took those things and made them my own, Apollo Justice. I play piano, speak German, and flourish my handwriting with swirls for my own sake, not because I am beholden to my father’s legacy.”
Apollo restrained the urge to sniffle. How embarrassing, crying in front of a stranger.
“Good penmanship and filing habits are admirable traits, no matter where they come from. You use what Gavin taught you to do good, not to hurt others as he did.” Franziska cracked a small smile. “Like you did with the jury test.”
Apollo swallowed. “…You know about that?”
“The whole country knows about it. Germany is looking to implement a similar test later this year, thanks to your efforts.”
“Well, it wasn’t just me,” Apollo replied, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Mr. Wright organized the whole thing… and Prosecutor Gavin played a big part, too.”
Franziska suddenly scowled, setting aside her empty teacup. “Fools, the both of them. Especially that younger Gavin brother—his grammar is abhorrent. I doubt the man is German at all.”
Apollo actually managed to laugh. “I thought so too. I think his accent might be fake.”
Franziska smiled at him, and Apollo decided that he really liked this woman. She would be a great teacher if she ever decided to mentor someone.
And just like that, the conversation took a turn for the casual. Apollo took his time finishing his own tea while they discussed a few topics: the future of the jurist system, new developments in contract law, and their mutual hatred for Klavier Gavin’s music.
Then the door swung open. Phoenix shambled inside, two plastic bags swinging from each hand. He stared at Apollo, then at Franziska, and his face visibly dropped.
“…You're early. Trucy isn’t done for another hour.”
“That’s a strange way to say hello,” Franziska sneered. “Do me a favour and never host an event, Phoenix Wright. Also, count yourself lucky that your subordinate is more hospitable than you. I was about to leave a one-star review on your website.”
Phoenix looked at Apollo and smiled half-heartedly. “Thanks for taking care of her, Apollo,” he said as he set the bags on a nearby counter. “I guess you already introduced yourself to the lovely Ms. von Karma?”
“Ms. von Karma?” Apollo repeated, unsure if he'd heard Phoenix correctly.
“Don’t test me, Phoenix Wright,” Franziska hissed, snarling at Phoenix like an angry dog. “I can steal your subordinate away at any time. We pay twice as much.”
“He likes working here just fine. Don’t you, Apollo?” When Apollo didn’t immediately reply, Phoenix glanced at him questioningly. “Uh… you good, buddy?”
Apollo wasn’t listening. He was too busy wrapped in the horror of his realization. “You’re Franziska von Karma? As in, the Franziska von Karma? From State v. Iris?!”
Franziska tilted her head. “Yes?”
“Oh my god,” Apollo breathed, reeling in his chair. “I just trauma-dumped in front of the greatest prosecutor in all of Europe.” He buried his face into his hands and groaned loudly, his cheeks burning up with shame. “…I’m just gonna curl up and die here if you guys don’t mind.”
Phoenix barked out a laugh, but was interrupted when Franziska suddenly pulled a whip out of her coat and began lashing roughly at Phoenix’s shoulders. “Ow! Quit it!”
“Shut your mouth, Phoenix Wright.”
“Fine, okay! Geez!” When the lashing finally ceased, Phoenix rubbed at his sore shoulders and grumbled under his breath. He turned to face Apollo, exasperation plastered all over his face. “I’m gonna go start dinner prep. Trucy should be home soon. I guess you can… hang out with Franziska, if you want.”
“No, I need to check into my hotel,” Franziska replied. A smirk crossed her lips, and she placed her free hand on Apollo’s shoulder, staring down at him with a smug but otherwise unreadable expression. “I will be looking forward to our next meeting, Apollo Justice. Perhaps the next time I see you, it will be in court.”
She nodded down at Apollo, glared at Phoenix, then left without another word.
Apollo collapsed deep into the seat cushions—all his body’s tension dissipated at once. Not once did he think a conversation over tea would turn so stressful.
“I didn’t think it was possible for Franziska to like a person.” Phoenix grinned at Apollo and slapped his back with an open palm. “Maybe I should invite her for dinner tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Holy Mother, help me,” Apollo sobbed.