Chapter Text
Yet another trial concludes. It's a simple, clear-cut case of petty theft, one that is neither interesting nor revolutionary. So why did Klavier Gavin, famed prosecutor and rockstar, decide to go as the prosecution? Apollo asks himself this very question for the… how many times now? No matter how boring a case seems, if Apollo is the defense — he has bills to pay, after all —, he can be certain he will be facing the flamboyant man in court. He raises his eyes every time, but ultimately, he knows Klavier has to be the most decent prosecutor he can find himself against. He's heard of Mr. Wright's opponents in the past, and a few jabs at his forehead don't compare to whip or boiling coffee mug attacks. So he doesn't complain. Or rather, he doesn't complain until he bids his client goodbye and Klavier appears in the defendant's lobby, soon enough followed by an irritated-looking Ema — nothing new here.
“Glückwunsch, Herr Forehead!” he praises the defense lawyer with his usual bright smile.
“Hm, yeah, thanks, I guess,” he replies without much conviction, if not with a hint of cynicism.
For all Apollo knows, Klavier could be telling him to fall off a cliff. Or more likely, he could be mocking his head. He can never really tell whether he's merely teasing him or being genuine. And so, he always answers somewhat disgruntledly. Trucy, standing next to Apollo, taps his back.
“Polly, stop being so grumpy!”
“I'm not! I just have an inkling as to why he's here…”
“Ja, I'm here, and I can definitely hear you.” Despite the defense lawyer's tone, the smile on Klavier's face doesn't falter. “I suppose that means you're not interested in me taking you to dinner?”
“Hm, no, I’m fine…” Apollo stammers, stuck between his inability to get used to the prosecutor's frequent invitations and his annoyance about said invitations.
“Wie schade! Well, maybe next time!” He winks.
Apollo winces, which doesn't elude the prosecutor. But before he can voice any complaint, the detective — who has been furiously munching on her snacks all this time — grabs her coworker by the collar to drag him out.
“Stop wasting time flirting and let's get to work! God, you're insufferable!”
“Fräulein Detective, relax…” Klavier accepts his fate — not that he could escape Skye’s wrath anyway. He looks back at Apollo and Trucy one last time. “Tschüss!” He waves, then disappears behind the doors of the defendant's lobby, leaving the defense lawyer and the girl alone. Oh, and an unfazed bailiff.
Trucy crosses her arms and shakes her head. “Apollo, Apollo, Apollo…” she chants in disappointment.
“What now?”
“Who would turn down a date with Klavier Gavin, not even once, but…” She looks at her fingers, “yeah, no, I've lost count.”
“Me, apparently... Wait— it's not like he's asking me on a date!”
“Ah, yes… A strictly platonic dinner between a lawyer and a prosecutor… Where have I heard this before?” She muses for a few seconds. “In any case, if you didn’t accept his offer…” The girl puts her finger just a few inches from Apollo's face, “it can only mean one thing! You're going to take me to Eldoon's instead.”
He shots a quick glance at his phone.
“It's only 4 P.M…”
Trucy brings her hands together, giving him her deadly puppy eyes. Now, if he refused, he'd feel terribly guilty, as if he were the most despicable criminal in the world, or as if he were pushing a kitten away from him because he's wearing black pants — an equally criminal act. Not taking her to this “restaurant”, however, would benefit her arteries. But with those eyes, he’s doomed to begrudgingly oblige.
“Okay, fine!”
“Yeah! Thanks Polly, you're the best!”
Apollo doesn't like Eldoon's noodles. He's no gourmet, but plain noodles with possibly his weight worth of salt is hardly what he considers tasty. Nevertheless, seeing Trucy happily slurping her meal, he thinks that maybe it's worth the thrombosis.
“Ah, I'm full!”
“Yeah, full of salt…”
“And you're salty, Apollo,” she adds, because Trucy always has the last word, to his great displeasure. Then, setting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her intertwined hands, she looks intently at Apollo. The look of someone who wants answers. Of a Wright who wants answers.
“I really don't understand, Polly… Why are you always like this with Prosecutor Gavin? You don't actually dislike him, right?”
“No, not really— urgh, I don't really know how to explain it.” He inhales through gritted teeth. “It's like he's so much cooler than me and that's annoying because I feel lame in comparison.”
“So you find him intimidating?”
“Not as much anymore. He's pretty chill, actually, but you know…”
“Yeah, he is cool.”
“Too cool.”
Her gaze, however, remains steady. She isn't satisfied with his answer. “That's all there is to it?”
Apollo stares down at the table instead of the girl. He lets out a sigh. “No…” He hesitates for a moment. Klavier can't hear them right now, but what if he inadvertently walks past the stall and overhears them? The likelihood of that probably nears zero, but isn’t technically impossible. Clay must have gotten inside his head with all of his probability theory and whatnot.
Ultimately, though, he needs to get this out of his system. And never mention it again. “I can't help but see Kristoph's reflection in him and it's… jarring. I know he's not Kristoph, that Klavier wants the truth more than to win, so I feel bad even thinking that way…”
Kristoph is a murderer. He wishes he would have hated him the moment the verdict echoed in the courtroom. But he had been his mentor, he looked up to him and still does, in a way, despite the sense of betrayal and disgust he’s faced with. He often finds himself applying the advice the man gave him, thinking about the times he scolded him for his mistakes and wondering what kind of lawyer he would’ve become had he not met him — bittersweet recollections, a taste he came to hate, as opposed to the man himself. And Klavier, in spite of himself, is a reflection of these feelings.
“I guess that can't be helped.” Her voice becomes quieter. Of course, Kristoph's name doesn't ring well in the girl's ears.
“But I’m sure that feeling will pass, right, I’m sure! So, a-anyways! Like I said, I don't hate him and I'm thankful he's so helpful during trials, but his incessant fake persona and flirting is really, really annoying.” He gestures awkwardly, as though it would make up for what he just said — although not an insult, he does respect Klavier enough that comparing him to his brother feels… wrong, unfair even.
“Why would he be faking it? The flirting, I mean.”
“Oh, come on! It's just part of his persona, he does that to anyone. I don't think he has any ill intentions, but it's very clear he's just teasing me.”
“I wonder about that,” Trucy whispers, almost to herself. “Teasing you is fun, and I think he does that a lot. But I also believe that some of it is genuine. If he didn’t mean it, why would he insist on taking you out to dinner? It wouldn’t be very funny after the first or second time.”
His expression twists into a scowl. “Who knows what goes on inside his head?”
“Maybe he wants to get to know you. And maybe you don’t, but you could at least be a little… nicer?”
Has he been mean to him? He certainly hasn’t answered enthusiastically to his shenanigans, but that does not make him an asshole.
“You know,” she continues, “I don’t really buy his smile. I can sense something within him. No wonder considering what happened with his brother. And who knows what else?”
Apollo bites his lip. Maybe he could have been more considerate — no doubt having your brother thrown in jail is traumatizing — but he realizes now he was fooled by his nonchalant, confident demeanor he puts on. If Trucy is sensing things right, that is. Which she does, most of the time.
“Right… That doesn’t really make it our business, though. I mean, I did sorta put him in jail, but…” He refuses to admit he doesn't know how to talk to the prosecutor without acting all awkward, and now without feeling a tad guilty. “Whatever, that doesn’t mean I have to accept his invitations!”
“Oh, of course not!” Trucy leans forward, a mischievous smirk appearing from the corners of her mouth. “If that’s bothering you that much, why not just ask him to stop?”
He blinks for a second, then stutters for a few more without managing to articulate anything.
“It’s not like that!” he shouts, prompting the girl to shush him. He makes a grimace and looks around him. But there’s no one else here, and Eldoon is used to his loudness by now. “But it’s… it’s Klavier Gavin we’re talking about!”
“So it gives you an ego boost?”
“N-No! I mean… maybe a little…” He spreads his arms on the table and knocks his forehead in the process. “But like I said, I don’t think he means it,” he mumbles.
She shrugs. “Careful, you’re gonna hurt the forehead he loves so much. Ah— Mr. Eldoon's coming!”
*
“Really, Fräulein Detective, you should relax a little, okay?”
By now, Ema has let go of Klavier and instead, is walking in front of him, chewing on a nearly empty snack bag and stamping her feet.
“But this case is so much more important than whatever was going on with Justice’s case!” She clenches the packet.
“Ah, but finding the truth behind every crime is important,” he tempers, more amused by the detective’s irritation than anything else. “Is it because you want to play the forensic scientist you’re so intent on going back to the crime scene?”
“No! Of course not! I’m mad because you decided to take on this stupid theft case just so you could mess with Justice. Seriously, what’s your deal?”
He chuckles. “You’re not a good liar, weißt du? As for your question, well… I like him.”
“Huh?” She stops in her tracks and turns around, dumbfounded. “Wait, you’re not actually joking about that?”
“Nein.”
“Why though? I mean, you do you I guess but… It didn’t seem to me like you were close or anything.”
Klavier ponders her question for a moment. “He doesn’t put me on a pedestal, it’s like it doesn’t really matter to him that I’m a rockstar because I’m a prosecutor first. It’s also why I like you, Fräulein Detective. Just not in the same way.”
“Yikes.” Ema sticks her tongue out. “But also, he does seem pretty intimidated by you.”
“Ja, I guess so. But there’s something in the way he looks at me I like, in a way that’s different from most people.” His voice becomes slightly softer. “I also like how he reacts when I tease him, and I especially like his sense of justice. I can tell he really cares about finding the truth.”
In the end, however, he can’t really explain why he’s this interested in Apollo. Of course, this interest initially arose from curiosity. Not necessarily the good kind. Needing to know who had essentially put his brother in jail gnawed at his insides. Then he met Apollo Justice, an awkward rookie attorney who, above all else, radiates genuineness. And now, he’s naturally drawn to him and his reactions. It doesn’t make the situation any easier, though. What would Kristoph think of that? Would he loathe Klavier for liking the man who put him behind bars, or loathe him for taking an interest in his (ex)protege? Whatever the case might be, Kristoph would surely despise him. He can already picture his terrifying glower. The thought alone makes a chill run down his spine, but the girl's voice draws him back to Earth.
“I see…” In reality, the young woman is more confused than anything. “He doesn’t seem to be treating you particularly better than I am, though.”
“Ach was! He’s not beating you in that regard.”
“You—” She glares at him, her confusion already giving way to her usual irritation. “You must be some kind of masochist or something!”
“You’re making baseless accusations about me. Not that it would be your business,” he laughs. “But really, do I deserve to be treated any differently?”
“Wha—”
“Anyway, we should hurry before forensics arrive.”
“Are you kidding me? They must have wrapped it up ages ago!”
Ema speeds up her pace as the crime scene draws closer. What was that about? He's still wearing his stupid, dazzling smile as though what he said is completely normal, showing no signs of elaborating. But Ema is quickly distracted by the fact that the forensics have indeed already finished their investigation. All because of that glimmerous fop!