Mingle and an Intro: Welcome to the Box!

[gravemanagement]

[ On today, a long-time business has been bought for the day and paid well. Whoever paid it wants people to eat and make merry for some reason. Must be a holiday? Huh, all devices showing the date day it's the new year. It doesn't matter what day it was for you before now, it's not the new year. And you? You are at the Chloe Café at 1:30PM.

Waiters and waitresses will take your order. Really, it's a chill time. Even if you're supposed to be dead? You're alive now, somewhere in Los Angeles, Japanifornia. Welcome and have a good day, because eventually there's gonna be a murder to solve in this big ol' city. ]

Comments

[marlonmajesty]

[ Kachessa Strahl is an up-and-coming defense attorney. Because of course she is. The daughter of some wealthy business entrepreneurs, she's here for some tea. And oh boy, does she have tea. She is, quite possibly, on her fifth cup while she reads the morning paper. ]

[contemptiblecourtmaster]

[ Yeah he's cheap, so if it's paid for, you know he's going to take advantage of that.

Something about this feels weird, but whatever. He's going to settle in and find a nice place to sit and go over the various pretrial nonsense. He orders some tea and gets to work.

...

Honestly.

Who in this day and age still uses a fountain pen...? ]

[bittertasteofdefeat]

[Godot sat at a corner table in silence, predictably nursing a cup of coffee.

While there were other patrons scattered about the café, he largely paid them no mind - even if the scattered voice briefly caught his attention, or piece of conversation, or familiar silhouette walked past. He took note of things, of course, but he wasn't particularly going out of his way to engage. After all, it's not as though he had anything in particular to say to anyone, really.

It was a bit noisier in here than he would've personally cared for, but that was only to be expected with the offering of an open tab; one that he was absolutely counting on being told he was kicked off of, starting somewhere about nine cups ago.

Regardless, the environment of a café was a familiar and comforting one. He'd be perfectly content to just sit in peace and soak up the ambience, until he'd had his fill and grew bored enough to leave - assuming he didn't have any cases to handle anytime soon, that is.

For the time being, however, he was perfectly content to sit and nurse his eleventh free cup of the house blend medium roast.]

[devilofthecourt]

[ 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. ]