In the spirit of Christmas, have something totally unrelated.

Other than for practising his Chords of Steelâ„¢, being trained in the art of waking up at least two hours before the average American had its advantages. For example: today, Apollo Justice intended to wake up to bake a cake for his boyfriend for his twenty-fifth birthday. He was a little worried that he would wake Klavier up if he was noisy, but after some deliberation, he decided it would be much more likely for Klavier to wake up due to a lack of noise, so when he got up in the morning, he went around making as much noise as possible with the kitchen and his voice.

'MY NAME IS APOLLO JUSTICE, ACE ATTORNEY!'

As per usual, Klavier remained fast asleep, not even twitching at the sound.

Almost giddy with excitement, Apollo almost danced into the kitchen and began baking his cake, all the while yelling at the top of his voice.

'Where are the raspberries? OBJECTION! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO RASPBERRIES IN - HOLD IT! THERE THEY ARE! TAKE THAT, CAKE!'

So it went for the early morning. Finally, Apollo stepped back from the kitchen counter, a bright red cake gleaming as if it were grinning on the counter. He heard a loud bang! from the bedroom and assumed that Klavier had woken up and knocked over the lamp or something. There were several smaller bangs, which were more usual: the sound of Klavier dressing in the morning. Apollo began to cook eggs and bacon and had just finished laying the table when Klavier came out.

Or rather, dragged himself out.

Klavier looked completely and thoroughly dejected. Despite the time he had taken to get dressed, his hair was not hanging in the perfect shape over his shoulder, or even tied up in a ponytail behind him, which he sometimes did on days off. It lay thin and scraggly on his back, and instead of his contacts, he had merely put on his spare glasses, which did not fit in the least bit with his 'glimmerous' image.

'Um... Klavier? Is something wrong?'

The man looked up at his lover with tears shining in his eyes, taking Apollo completely aback. 'Herr Forehead,' he said in the whiny voice he used when he couldn't find even socks. 'What day is it today?'

'It's Thursday... your birthday...?'

'Ja, schatzi. It is my birthday.'

'Yes. Your twenty-fifth birthday.'

Klavier silently pulled up a chair at the table and sat down without looking at Apollo.

'Is something... wrong?'

'Schatzi, it's my twenty-fifth birthday! Do you know how old that is?'

'Only about 9000 days I think.'

'That's so old! What if I catch a disease and can't get over it because my cells are too slow? What if I get AD? What if there's already a white hair in my beautiful blonde locks and someone notices it during a concert?'

Apollo sighed and slumped forward on the table. 'Yeah, happy birthday, Klavier.'