Work Text:
Date: Tuesday, August 19th, 2025
Time: 2:12 pm
Location: Café Society, Los Tokyo, Japanifornia
Presently, Lana and Diego were about three months into their relationship, and a little over a year into their time as co-owners of a private detective agency. This afternoon, they were spending their down time the way they often did, quietly sipping their drinks and listening to the ambient background music of Diego’s favorite café in the city. They spent so much time together these days that they were comfortable being silent in each other’s presence, people watching rather than talking.
Diego was on drink three of his “Diego Triple Play,” as he so called it, which consisted of a double espresso shot, a cup of black, dark roast coffee, and a macchiato, made the authentic way, not like the "horrific, diabetes-laden monstrosity" that Starbucks serves. Meanwhile, Lana sipped her lemon ginger tea and picked away at her cinnamon streusel coffee cake.
Lana was staring out of one of the large, plate glass windows, watching the hustle and bustle of pedestrians outside, when Diego pulled her out of her reverie, nearly choking on his macchiato before lowering his head and muttering “shit” under his breath.
“What?” she asked, concerned.
“Franziska von Karma just walked in,” he whispered.
“Really? Where?”
Lana looked behind her and towards the counter, where Franziska von Karma, model of German efficiency, bypassed the order station and headed straight to the pick-up counter, retrieving her large paper cup and exchanging it for a five-dollar bill. She had called ahead rather than wait in line like the other plebeians in this establishment.
She looked minimally different from how she did when Lana last saw her, with a shoulder-length, silver-blue bob; black gloves; a gaudy skirt suit set; and knee-high, black boots. Cup in hand, Franziska curtsied to the barista before pulling off to the side and loudly answering an important work call.
“Why did you look back?” Diego groused.
“Why are you being so weird? Who cares if she’s here?”
“Didn’t you work with her too?”
“Super briefly. She was in Germany most of my time at the prosecutor’s office. She was fine. A bit of a brat but ignorable.”
“Well, we’re not exactly friends.”
Lana laughed. “I never figured you two would be close.”
“I’d say it goes a little beyond that.”
“Really? Are you sworn enemies?” Lana teased.
Diego stared back at her, unimpressed, before looking off to the side. “I may have… said some things I shouldn’t have said.”
“Those things being?”
He didn’t answer.
Lana rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You can be such an ass.”
“Look, it was at Hazakura Temple. I had been trapped for days, and she was being really annoying. You just had to be there.”
“Sure.” Franziska was about to walk out the door, but before she could, Lana called out to her, “Hey, Ms. von Karma! Over here!”
Franziska was momentarily stunned before a look of recognition came across her face. She started walking in the couple’s direction.
“Seriously?” Diego asked.
Lana smiled mischievously. “Oh, I’m just going to say hi. It’s been years and years.”
Diego pulled Lana’s plate of half-eaten coffee cake away from her.
“What gives?”
“Coffee cake is only for nice people,” he explained.
Lana dragged her plate back. “Then you shouldn’t have any either.”
The plate slid to Diego. “Ah, but I paid for it.”
Lana took the plate back one last time. “Take it out of my paycheck, big guy.” She punctuated her remark with a large mouthful of cake.
Diego smiled slightly and had another sip of his macchiato.
Franziska approached the table and directed her attention to Lana. “Former Chief Prosecutor Skye. You’re no longer in prison; I see.”
“Nope. Been out for a year and a half. Working as a PI now.”
“That’s quite intriguing.” She looked briefly at Diego. “And this is your… male… companion… person?”
“My partner, yes.”
“Ha,” Diego interjected.
“Boyfriend,” Lana corrected. At 38 years old, Lana thought the term boyfriend might seem a tad juvenile. Diego, on the other hand, thought the term partner made it sound like they were in a lesbian life partnership. Lana didn’t see what the problem with that assumption was.
“Oh,” Franziska said, taken back. “I had always heard that… well, I suppose there’s a reason why I was told to pay no mind to rumors. Only a fool believes everything she hears.”
“No, you heard right. Although, I’m what you would call a fence-sitter. Spending some time on the side of the fence with grills, guns, and pickup trucks at the moment.”
“Hm, not the choice I would make but to each their own.” Franziska fiddled through her black, leather, cross-body purse, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Lana. “If you ever come to your senses, I’m sure they would welcome you back at the meetings. Our AGM is in October at the Gatewater Hotel. The one in NoHo.”
“Thanks,” Lana replied, reviewing the card and then depositing it into her purse. “When this relationship goes up in flames, you’ll be the first to know.”
Lana expected Diego to bristle at her teasing, but he was rather dumbfounded instead. “There are… meetings?” he asked incredulously.
“Oh, yeah, once a month,” Lana said.
“We take the summers off,” Franziska added. “Far too busy to arrange anything.”
“Huh,” he reacted. “How about that?”
“Are you serving on a trial today?” Lana asked.
“Yes,” Franziska answered. “On my lunch break now and will be back in the courtroom at three. This is my favorite café in the city.”
“Diego’s too. Well, aren’t you guys just two peas in a pod?” Lana pointed at Franziska’s cup. “What’s your drink order? Wonder if it’s the same as one of his.”
“This is a German cappuccino.”
“What’s that?” Diego asked. He was likely the resident coffee expert of this entire city, and yet he had never heard of that drink order before.
“It’s a cappuccino made with steamed water instead of steamed milk.”
“That’s just an Americano.”
“No,” Franziska argued. “That can’t be right. This is a special drink from Germany.”
Diego only nodded back, graciously deciding to bite his tongue.
“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” Franziska held out her free hand to Diego. “I’m Franziska von Karma, world-renowned prosecutor and legal expert.”
“Diego Armando,” he replied, shaking it. “And, yeah, I already knew that.”
“So, my reputation precedes me.”
“Oh, so you two don’t know each other?” Lana asked, grinning.
“No, we’ve met before,” Diego insisted.
Franziska squinted at him. “Really? When?”
“At the prosecutor’s office. About six years ago.”
“Hm. That’s not ringing a bell.”
“Are you serious?” Diego carded his hand through his hair. “Maybe you just don’t recognize me with my hair dyed. It used to be completely grey.”
Franziska took a moment, visualizing it. “No, that doesn’t help.”
He sighed. “Well, back then, I used to go by Godot. Maybe that’s why you don’t remember.”
“No. I’ve only ever heard that name in a rather surreal play.”
“Well, do you know anyone else with stupid goggles like this?”
“Of course. Everyone wears visors just like that back in Germany.”
“Really?”
“Yes, at all the nightclubs. They’re very fashionable. Quite avant-garde.” Franziska laughed haughtily. “I suppose you’re not quite as cultured as I am. Why, have you even left the country?”
Diego silently steamed. He did not spend decades of his life poring over “best of” lists for films, TV shows, books, and music albums to be called uncultured. “I was there for that murder case at Hazakura Temple. Do you not remember that at all?”
“Why, yes. I remember bravely enduring the blustery wind and the cold, staying up all through the night, until I was able to free Sister Iris from that dreadful cavern. So, you were there too?”
“What? Of course I was there. That was my case. You seriously don’t remember who I am?” Diego laughed derisively. “Wow. Okay, here’s the scene: you and Phoenix Wright were scouting the area and met up with me in the cavern. You insisted on taking the case from me, and wouldn’t back off, so I said: ‘Hey, filly. Know your role and shut your mouth. I can't stand women like you. I'm only going to say this once, Lady von Whippingberg–’”
Franziska did a spit take, finally remembering Diego. She accidentally sprayed some of her coffee on him and onto the ground. Diego wiped the deluge from his face with his sleeve.
“That was you?” Franziska asked, outraged.
Lana was equally aghast. “You actually said that?”
Diego chuckled nervously. “Lana, again, I spent 40 hours trapped on an island with Pearl Fey. With no electricity, no running water, no food, none of my medications, and no sleep. In freezing cold temperatures. And, frankly, she was being kind of a… whatever.”
Lana finished his thought in her head. She looked up at Franziska and gave her a small nod. Lana's implicit code for go get ‘im.
Franziska reached into her purse and grabbed a tiny, retractable riding crop. Her self-defense weapon of choice that was always on her person. She extended it out until it was nearly four times its original size and started beating the ever-loving shit out of Diego with it.
“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What the hell?”
Everyone else in the café looked on in horror, but remained seated where they were, not wanting to get involved. Lana, alternatively, sprung into action. When she gave Franziska her blessing, it was for a brutal tongue lashing, not for 40 lashes with a riding crop.
Lana placed her arm between them. “Hey, hey, Franziska. Stop. Stop! Remember the Japanifornia criminal code? What an assault with a non-deadly weapon charge will run you in prison?”
Franziska snapped out of her rage. “You’re right.” She withdrew her weapon and returned it to her purse. “Franziska von Karma,” she said to herself. “You’re better than this. A lion doesn’t concern herself with the opinions of sheep.”
“Or kittens,” Lana added.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Skye.” She glared at Diego. “Have a nice life, Drago.” Franziska turned heel and stormed out.
Diego rubbed his head, soothing his battered body and bruised ego. “You happy?”
“I have mixed feelings about this interaction.” Lana giggled. “Looks like you really left a big impression on her.”
“Oh, just eat your damn cake.”
“With relish.”