Nine in the Afternoon – Panic! At the Disco
It was a tense morning in the von Karma household, but this was no surprise to Miles. The atmosphere always exuded a feeling of unease and dread, but a dark cloud descended on the days in which the master of the house was provoked. Franziska had been studying French very hard for quite some time, but wasn't nearly a skilled enough speaker in the eyes of her father, the legendary (and quite extreme) prosecutor Manfred von Karma. He insisted that his child be cultured and well rounded, which meant she was to speak several languages, even at the young age of 12. There was no exception, he said, even for the language of those, "pathetic, snail-eating fools who dared to call themselves Europeans".
Thus, here was Franziska, cramming verb conjugations into her mind so fervently that she was about ready to pull out her beautiful blue hair.
Miles had never approved of his foster father's methods of teaching Franziska—and was particularly irked by Manfred's mocking of escargot in front of the girl, since Miles was a big fan of the food—so he decided to offer his assistance in her studies. After all, he had already aced his French exams.
Franziska was always dismissive of Miles, but decided to put their differences aside and accept his help graciously. Well, as graciously as she could manage without showing how much in need of his help she was.
"Hmm, let's start with…time," Miles said as he glanced over her study material.
"Fool," Franziska muttered. "I'm already perfect in saying the time. Pick something else!" Miles rolled his eyes. He would never understand why Franziska insisted on being so difficult, but he knew how to deal with it. "Just humor me, Franziska. I'd love to hear how perfectly you speak the time," he pleaded with her. She reluctantly agreed.
"Alright…quelle huere est-il?" Miles pronounced flawlessly.
Franziska held her head up with a look of superiority. "Il est neuf hueres," she said rather perfectly herself.
Miles looked at her expectantly. "And…? Can you expand on that? The time of day, maybe?"
Franziska scoffed. "Of course I can, don't be foolish! Repeat the question, Miles Edgeworth. The conversation must be perfectly complete." Miles complied with a sigh. "Quelle huere est-il?"
"Il est neuf hueres…" Franziska paused to think. "Il est neuf hueres de l'apres-midi…?"
Miles smirked. "Franziska, you just said it's nine in the afternoon."
Franziska scowled to hide her embarrassment from her adopted brother. "O-of course I did, fool! I was merely testing you!" She tried again. "Il est neuf hueres…du matin."
"Much better," Miles said, and then he smirked again. "Hmm, nine in the afternoon…that would be quite confusing."
Franziska smiled despite herself. It made Miles happy to see her smile. She rarely did, since she was taught to think of happiness as a sign of weakness. "Only a foolishly foolish fool like yourself would waste time pondering such foolish things. Move on, Miles Edgeworth."
The two carried on with their studying, and Miles would continue to tease Franziska about her mistake. In turn, she would stare at him with wide eyes and smack him with her newly purchased riding crop. Miles tried telling her that such weapons were not meant to be used on people, but she interrupted him with another strike from her crop until he at last remained silent. In the end, however, Miles had taught Franziska well, and she went on to pass her exam with flying colors. She had actually received higher marks than Miles had, but amazingly she did not boast her success, which surprised Miles greatly. Maybe he had helped her with more than just French.
…
"…Miles Edgeworth! You will answer me!" The crack of Franziska's whip brought Miles out of his daydreaming spell. He looked around the room he found himself in. It was his room as a child in the von Karma mansion. The house of his mentor, Manfred von Karma. The man who had destroyed Miles' life 15 years ago, and then, in a moment of either mercy or insanity, had decided to take the boy under his wing. The thought of that dark moment in the courthouse elevator, that single gunshot and that bone chilling scream, flooded Miles' mind. He would never forget that moment as long as he lived. The moment of his father's death. He was in the house where it all began.
Miles closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I cannot dwell on the past forever, he thought. He opened his eyes to look at the young woman in front of him. What had made him think of such an inconsequential memory? What she said next reminded him.
"Miles Edgworth! What are you doing here and what are you so foolishly gawking at?" Franziska asked impatiently, whip taut in her hands. Miles looked down to the paper sitting on the desk, the thing he had been "so foolishly gawking at". It was a test paper with full marks, but not a test of his: it was Franziska's. It was the very French test he had been helping her prepare for years ago and was evidence of the first time Franziska was able to study without being utterly terrified of Manfred's wrath, should she not be perfect in every way. He flipped through the test, and found the section on time, which had been written particularly neatly, as if the paper itself was showing off. Why was such a document in his room? He shrugged. It didn't matter, really.
Miles continued his wandering around the room, picking up the occasional item. "I'm just here to fetch a few things," he answered Franziska, ignoring her other outburst. "I'll be flying out tomorrow."
"What time will you be leaving tomorrow?" she asked, resting her hands on her hips.
"Nine o'clock."
Franziska frowned. "What a foolish answer. Nine what?" she asked. "As a student of von Karma, you should always be perfectly precise in your response!"
He smiled as he exited the room. "Nine in the afternoon," he said softly.
