"Hey, Ema?" the spiky-haired man piped up, and the detective looked back at him. Well, detective... she didn't want to be a detective. She liked science. No, she didn't like science. She loved science. So much that if science were a man, she'd probably marry him. Well, if science were a woman, that'd still happen. And science was certainly a wonderful mistress, anyway, in her opinion.
But science was not the case right now. Right now the case was a murder case and right now her attentions were set on the young lawyer behind her. And not those attentions. Her other, normal attentions.
She chewed on her snacks. Mmm, chocolaty. She loved Snackoos. Not enough to cheat on science with the Snackoos, but... wait a second. What the heck? "What is it?"
Apollo breathed. "Well, you know about Prosecutor Gavin?"
"Yes~?" she sang, munching just a little louder. Apollo flinched – warning, warning! Evacuate the room! Evacuate the room - and immediately began twisting the skin on his right wrist, the one that didn't bear a seemingly enchanted bracelet.
"Well... I was, um, wondering..." He grimaced. "Why do you keep calling him a glimmerous fop?"
"I already told you." MUNCH. Watch the lawyer flinch. Repeat times two. "He glimmers and he's foppish."
Apollo nodded. "Well, yeah... I already knew about the glimmering part." He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I meant the 'fop' part."
She stopped snacking and gave him the dullest, straightest glare she could muster. It was like she was stabbing him repeatedly with a Masamune or two. Pleasant mental image, really. "As in?"
"...What does the word 'fop' mean?"
Ema's brain probably would have exploded if that were physically possible at the moment. "You're a twenty-two-year-old, fully-qualified defence attorney with super-perceptive eyesight and you've never been taught the meaning of the word 'fop'."
The lawyer shrunk. "No, ma'am."
"Just look at Gavin. That should tell you enough about fops to fill an entire library – with overspill."
She knew what he was thinking. That doesn't tell me at all... Apollo was so ridiculously easy to read. Now if only she had Phoenix's godly mind-screwing powers, her newfound hobby would probably be more fulfilling. As it was, she was still messing with Apollo Justice. Guy built his reputation on being surprisingly naive for his profession.
She sighed. "A fop, my dear friend," she replied, "is a melodramatic, self-centred rich idiot."
"Ah." The corners of the spiky-haired man's mouth seemed to tug upwards. "I thought being melodramatic was just part-and-parcel of the business."
"It is." She was secretly quaking. Apollo appeared to be smirking. Apollo didn't smirk. "But not the rich or self-centred parts."
Apollo started messing around with his spikes. Horns. The prosecution and the judge himself called them horns. The red motif just added to the effect, not to mention his demonic eyes whenever he was onto something. "I guess Phoenix was a prime example of that back in the day, huh?"
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." Ema smirked. "He's even worse."
"...Oh?" The lawyer began audibly backing off. "R-r-really now?" If he were looking in a mirror, he'd be having a field day. With himself. "And how so?"
"Oh, he can back up his self-centredness. Never lost a game of cards, hardly ever lost a case. That guy could bail out every falsely-charged man in prison right now if he wasn't mangling the piano in that Indochinese restaurant." Ema turned back to her X-Ray Analyser... Thingy. Yeah. It had a long name. This was the gist of it. "Yep, if he wanted to, he could probably be in here right now, twisting that little neck of yours and dragging you to the top of the building and then hanging you off it in ten seconds with only so much as a smile and an 'enjoy the view'."
Apollo gulped. "Hanging... off the...?" He screwed up his face. "..." And he scarpered.
God, was it fun to watch him squirm.
Phoenix entered the Wright Anything Agency to see... well, among the usual mess, a certain spiky-haired apprentice of his. Trucy wasn't there. He calmly surveyed the room. Any little detail could tell volumes.
Then again, the fort made out of law books wasn't a tiny detail.
Indeed, our cute little ball of nerves had built a large structure out of the contents of the shelves. The fort had a little window, through which Phoenix could observe Apollo's round and tense face. Upon his head sat what was once a plate of plastic spaghetti but now a helmet (indeed, the fork and rolled-up mouthful was very visibly hanging at the side of his face).
He vaguely remembered what Ema had said to him today while he was loafing around the crime scene like the legal hobo he was, something about 'Operation'... 'Free Pout'? 'Free... Cow'? 'Freak-Out'? Yeah, that was it. What he saw now must have been the results of her actions. What did she do?
"...Apollo, are you okay in there?" he asked, and was promptly met with a boot to the head.
"PLEASE, FOR ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, DON'T HANG ME OFF THE TOP OF THE BUILDING!!! I WISH TO LIVE!!!"
A/N: Apollo Justice - the new Silver the Hedgehog. I like him. Clearly.