itsfairplay | Mingle and an Intro: Welcome to the Box!

[His expression briefly falters - he must've heard that wrong.

No, no he didn't mishear that.

Of course. Of course that guy would forge evidence. Somehow, this explains EVERYTHING. Or, perhaps it's just more reason to justify some of his old feelings of hatred.

He knew all along that there was a reason he couldn't stand the man, and he wasn't sure at the time if it was his blundering incompetence or the fact that his personality was so insufferable with his foolish ideological nonsense and preaching about right and goodness and trust and faith..

Mia got herself completely taken in by this piece of human-shaped garbage, who ultimately couldn't even notice that she might have been at risk of catching some heat on an investigation and it ultimately got her killed.

And now, to find out that this *man* was preaching about right and wrong like some self-righteous law superhero only for him to be every bit as corrupt as most of the prosecutor's office?

It left a bad taste in his mouth, not unlike the taste of some gas station's burnt coffee that's been brewing for too long and just left in the carafe slightly hotter than lukewarm.

He sets his jaw. The impulse, of course, is to ask how long he's been at that, and what that means for the other cases he was actually involved in - but he holds off. That's not a line of questioning worth following through on, that's a bear that just isn't worth poking with a stick right now.]

It sounds like a mess, and an awful lot of pressure for a first case. I'm almost surprised that one of the others wasn't assigned to it, because it would've been your first case.

[Admittedly, his own first case as a prosecutor was a fairly high-stakes one that was on the fairly convoluted side. However, he had the experience of working as a defense attorney before that, so it wasn't technically his first actual case.

Seeing an opportunity, he smirks.]

But, if you're a famous musician, wouldn't every case you worked be very public?

[Your fangirls aren't subtle, Klav.]

[ Oooh he is deeply not okay. ]

... He used me.

[ It's said through gritted teeth.

But surely he should already know. Isn't that all Kristoph had ever done? Found him a tool to be useful? He'd been the one to encourage his passion for law. He'd been the one to want him in the prosecutor's office.

... Had he ever actually cared? At all? ]

For seven years, I've wondered why he came to me about that phony evidence. I wondered how he knew. I wondered a lot of things. B-but this... I never... how? How is this possible...?

... Didn't start that way. My band was kind of a side gig. We just... got very, very popular. We're made up entirely of law enforcement types, so I guess people found it refreshing or something.

[ A shrug. ]

... It would've been better for my first case if it hadn't stalled out, honestly. I'm not mad about losing, I'm mad there wasn't a verdict at all.

[He gives a nod.

It figures, somehow, that something like that would take off, though. The novelty alone would probably have been enough for it to catch some extra attention.

The mention of his first case stalling out without a conviction catches his interest again, however.]

The charges were dropped, then?

Dropped? Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I wish.

[ His smile is easy as ever, but his tone implies the opposite of amusement. ]

More like... we dropped the defendant, and nobody could find him to pick him up! When things started looking south for the defense, he stood up there on the stand, and he said, "Nobody can find me guilty."

We had no idea how right he was, until he literally vanished before our very eyes... a talented magician, that Zak Gramarye.

[He never could've thought that he'd be thankful as Hell for some of his worst cases - and yet, at least he never had to deal with a vanishing defendant. A dead one, yes, but not one that literally managed to escape before his eyes.

..Actually, mentioning that might come as some kind of consolation. He takes a sip of his coffee.]

Mia Fey's first case involved the defendant taking his own life on the stand. At least you were spared an incident like that one.

[There's a slight smirk, but it's a bitter one. The truth is, he doesn't particularly care to remember that day, either.

He looks down at the coffee in his mug, and at his reflection in it, for a moment or two.

..It all really started with that trial, didn't it? It really was the beginning of his end.]

[ That has his attention real fast. That sounds like a hell case to him. ]

... I would hope I don't have to deal with that. This system is confused enough as it is. What a nightmare that must have been.

I was lucky. My first case made enough waves in a positive way they stopped comparing me to my brother.

[That's a fair assessment - it absolutely was a hell case.

He smirks, even though his tone remains level and dead serious.]

Believe it or not, that was hardly the worst aspect of that case.

[Another sip of coffee.]

Well, that counts for something, doesn't it?

[And that's an actual easy-going smile with actual warmth. Something a bit more genuine in the wake of all of the reflexive posturing and bitterness. An expression that would surely spark recognition of his old self, if anyone was familiar with one Diego Armando.

Not that it mattered, even if it was almost proof that there was some lingering vestiges of who he once was, under all of that bitterness and despair.]

... You work in the law, and it bites you, after long enough. Maybe even immediately, if you're truly unlucky.

[ A sigh. ]

But it needs to be done. As long as men keep committing crimes, there will need to be people to defend the innocent, and people to indict the guilty... ja?

It's less about the law, and more about the people.

[It's not his fault that people are terrible. Let's hope you never get this cynical, Klav.]

So long as there are laws, there will be people breaking them; it's just how things are.

[Just don't find yourself on the other side of that line, because it's an incredibly fine one, and a very slippery slope from there. Not that that's something he has any familiarity with or anything.]

... There's always going to be darkness in the heart of man. That's why it's our job to shine a light on it.

[ He smiles. This is a little bit more earnest. You can tell he really believes what he's saying. ]

Besides, everyone knows the prosecutor's office is largely full of very talented and handsome individuals.

...Forgive me for floating this idea, but... Given you have no knowledge of this, despite being there, but I do... Hm... What year is it? Without looking at your phone.

[ She has a theory. ]

[ He maybe thinks he gets what she's driving at. But that explanation is no less insane. ]

... It's 2026. Isn't it...?

[It's that last comment that has him grinning, a genuine one, he's amused.]

You're right about that. Unless their name is Payne, that is.

[He's still grinning a little to himself as he sips his coffee. Okay, so that was a little mean, but he's not wrong.]

If he's still working, he probably was the one who filed that noise complaint against you.

[There's a much broader, lopsided grin at that, as he rests his chin on his free hand.]

The man probably thinks "fun" is a size for a candy bar.

[For just a few moments, it's almost easy to forget how much time and events have changed Diego - because this kind of tongue-in-cheek banter is more in line with how things once were. In fact, for these few moments, it's entirely possible that even Godot's briefly forgotten about some of his baggage. If only for a few moments.]

[ Oh, that has him laughing. ]

Absolutely not. Herr Payne is the guy who hands out dental floss on Halloween. He's the one nobody wants to visit.

[He's actually chortling at that.]

If only he'd take off that mask for the other 364 days of the year.

[He grins at his own joke, almost like he briefly forgot about the visor attached to his face, or he's being mildly self-effacing. Either way, he seems to be in good spirits about it.

He actually needed that distraction, really. It got him out of his own head for a few moments.

Once they both calmed back down from the joking at Payne's expense, he goes back to being somewhat more serious. But it's casual intrigue more than anything else.]

For the record, I don't believe I actually caught your name.

[He's grinning again. He's managed this entire conversation almost exclusively on contextual cues and a gambit that Payne was still working/known enough to be familiar to the blond. You better believe he's proud of himself.]

Oh, you know that's asking too much. He'd scare the children, ja?

[ A chuckle. ]

Klavier. Klavier Gavin. Nice to meet you, Herr Godot. Sorry we're so boxed in. You know how it is.

[ Fans. They love him. ]

[ When he opens his eyes, he is, perhaps, perplexed. He is a condemned man, one who has been dragged forth into the harsh light he himself once thought he championed and exposed for the dark and miserable creature he truly is and then sentenced to death. He had, after all, killed two people for sure, attempted to kill another--when she was twelve, to boot--and there are who knows how many other skeletons in his closet. More than anyone knows, that's for sure. And he'd made sure it stayed that way, silent and unwavering one he returned to his cell after that damned jurist system was instated and the miserable little wretch of a girl he'd tried to do away with to cover for the forgery he had her made managed to escape an accidental trap he laid that snagged her father instead. and yet...

And yet... Here he is, sitting in a café, like he'd never been confined to solitary and like he'd never been found out. There is tea in front of him, made precisely how he likes it, and no chains or bars and no threat of a noose around his neck. It's quite astonishing, really, and he looks around momentarily, taking note that, at least for the moment, no one seems to be taking notice of a condemned man walking free.

For a moment, the demon in his heart whispers. He could have revenge. He could kill Phoenix Wright, like he should have some time ago. He'd underestimated him. And that boy he'd taken under his wing, too, for turning his brother against him. But the thought of harming Apollo wilts as soon as it blooms. No. Just like he wouldn't kill Klavier, he would not kill Apollo.

...Perhaps Apollo is, in a way, who he had wanted to be, and that had given the demon that whispers in his heart some hint of blood to lap at. But no, no, he won't even dream of hurting Apollo. Apollo is... A complicated matter, anyway.

At least for now, he finally settles on, he will simply sit here and enjoy a nice cup of tea without worry about cell checks or anything else. ]

[ He'd been having such a nice day.

And now his nice day had gone from bad, to worse. It had been an absolute shock to his system, and when he'd read that article, after having that talk, he'd left the café, and come back someone entirely different.

Someone weighed down by too much. It'd only been moments here, though. Somehow.

This place was weird. Really weird.

The last thing he was hoping to see was the very thing still haunting his thoughts and his nights. His brother. He still had no good explanation for why Kristoph did... well, anything he did. Why he'd resort to murder. Why he'd try to kill Vera Misham. Why he'd try to forge evidence. Why he'd try to ruin Phoenix Wright's life. Why he'd do so many awful things.

He grew up with Kristoph. He thought he knew the man. He looked up to him. Kristoph was part of the reason he wanted to go into law so badly. That was the idea, wasn't it? Each of them on opposite sides of the court, doing their best to help people in their own way, because the law, it was imperfect... at least. That's what Klavier had thought.

But looking at his brother now, he wonders. What had he thought. Had he seen a convenient person to be used? Was that all he ever was? A pawn to be shuffled across the board? He doesn't know anymore. Had he ever cared, at all? Even a little? Just looking at Kristoph makes bile rise in the back of his throat, and he considers immediately leaving, but... well. The authorities should keep an eye on him. What if this is how he escapes. (But part of him doesn't WANT his brother to die. He doesn't. The child in him is kicking and screaming for that not to happen. He loves him, he does.)

... Fuck, he hates this.

He has to do something.

And part of him IS angry. But what to do? He fiddles with his hair. He's at a loss. ... He has to approach him. No choice. He slides easily next to him, like it's nothing. Like this is normal. ]

... Kristoph. Taking an unauthorized jaunt?

[ When Klavier approaches, when he sits down, when they're now sitting together and his brother is talking to him, something inside Kristoph twists. It's primal and angry. Klavier had betrayed him. Klavier had led him along into the trap like a happy little lamb, confident it was safe right up until it realized it was going to be slaughtered. But he bites back the accusations, instead letting his expression fall into the careful sereneness he'd practiced for far too long. Especially now, he needs it, when there's venom to be spewed. He must, after all, remain in control, now that the opportunity allows him to have any. ]

I'm sure you know how unlikely that is, given you were there when they walked me out that second time. They're not likely to let me out in any way without handcuffs and multiple trackers.

[ The venom is there, lacing into his words, icy and stinging. "You betrayed me," the undercurrent of his voice says. "I looked to you to help me and you betrayed me."

Kristoph isn't sure why he thought Klavier would be any different than everyone else, honestly. ]

[ Ah.

He's not sure what he was expecting. He knows... on some level, he should have expected this, after that trial. He wasn't there for the one Apollo was involved in but that last one. He saw the ugliness taking root in his brother. That darkness.

The venom coming from him now... maybe the real poison wasn't in the nail polish. Maybe it was inside his brother. That thought... eats at him.

And yet.

There was a part of him, almost, that was hoping... they could have talked. Like they used to. Almost. Was he a fool? He was. He knows he was. He was... a fool. An ideological fool. ]

...

You're right. They're not. Curious, that. Someone's gonna have to keep an eye on you.

[ He smiles. It's a little sharper than usual. But that's fine. ]

No reason to get angry about it, ja? I'm sure you must be accustomed to having company by now.

Do you truly think I would go out of my way to cause more trouble than I have? Phoenix Wright would surely find some way of trapping me into confessing with his countless bluffs.

[ The name is said with more venom than he means to show. He had once considered Phoenix... At least useful, if not a friend. To then be not only betrayed, but counter-conspiracied, well. That sure is not a fun feeling. Still, he takes a sip of tea to calm himself--the tenseness of his hand causing the muscles to flex and that ominous face to appear. He's angry.

He is so

so

very

angry. ]

[ He orders a coffee. Cream and sugar. And sighs deeply. His brother had always been like this, hadn't he? When someone had made him angry... ]

Only mad to get caught, rather than upset to think about the fact you tried to kill a twelve year old little girl, huh, Kris? ... Honestly. Herr Wright's courtroom tactics have nothing to do with your guilt. You're just mad you lost.

So says the golden child who never had to clean up all of his messes. He could always afford room for error, after all.

[ Vera was an error, of course. An error that should have been corrected years ago. Destroy all connections, make sure no one can talk. He is, after all, more prepared to judge guilt than the common folk. Him, who has had to struggle and crawl through the muck and the grime because of something out of his control. ]

Mingle and an Intro: Welcome to the Box!

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