A/N: I love hot fudge, but can't stand chocolate sauce. Apparently, Franziska shares that quirky preference with me.
I own nothing. Otherwise, I would be localizing GK2 right now.
"Father! Father! I received a one hundred and five on my latest test!" a seven-year-old Franziska von Karma reported.
Manfred smiled approvingly at his daughter while Miles rolled his eyes. "And how shall we celebrate this momentous occasion?"
The girl put a finger to her chin as if to think, while in reality she knew exactly what she wanted. "How would you feel about traversing to Friendly's for an ice cream, father?"
"That would be acceptable, Franziska." He motioned for the two to make their way to the car.
"But I don't want to go out for ice cream!" Miles protested. What he really wanted was to stay home alone, undisturbed by the von Karmas.
Manfred turned to his adopted son with an icy glare. "Do you mean to tell me that you do not wish to celebrate Franziska's accomplishment?"
"No, but I –"
"Then get in the car, Miles."
"…Yes, sir."
At Friendly's Franziska squirmed impatiently. The waiters always took forever to provide their service. "Why don't you color your placemat?" Miles suggested, handing his "sister" a box of crayons.
"Miles Edgeworth!" she snapped. "I am not a child. I do not know why the foolish waiter gave me a kid's menu in the first place! That FOOL!"
"Franziska," her father said absent-mindedly in a warning tone, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading.
Finally, the waiter arrived at their table. "Took you long enough, you foolishly foolish fool!" Franziska brandished her riding crop.
The waiter, seemingly brainwashed, did not even blink. "May I take you order?"
"Yes. I will have a small sundae with forbidden chocolate ice cream, hot fudge, and wet walnuts." Franziska glared at the waiter, suspicious by the fact that he did not write any of this down.
"And I will have a medium sundae with vanilla ice cream and butterscotch topping."
Miles Edgeworth was silent.
"Miles?" von Karma prompted, silently cursing the boy for making a fool of them all.
"I'm not hungry," Miles muttered, absentmindedly drawing prosecutor's badges on Franziska's placemat in crayon.
"Suit yourself," Manfred stated disapprovingly.
After another long wait and another outburst from Franziska, their ice cream arrived. As the waiter set Franziska's sundae down in front of her, the girl heaped her spoon with ice cream and hot fudge. She put the spoonful in her mouth and made a face. Immediately, she pushed the ice cream away from her. "I clearly offered hot fudge."
"Yes…" the waiter said with a bored expression.
"This is chocolate sauce!"
"Um, aren't they the same thing?" Miles cringed, immediately regretting butting in.
"NO, they are NOT, Miles Edgeworth! Fool!" Franziska seethed, once again fingering her faithful riding crop.
"I can bring you another sundae," the waiter offered.
"That will not be necessary," Manfred ordered, "You would just mess up her order again. I will talk to your manager about this!"
The waiter's face paled.
"You foolhardy fool! You deserve to be fired, fool!"
"…I'll take it," Miles offered in order to end the conflict.
"No. I shall not allow it." Manfred turned to the waiter. "I would not even let my granddaughter's dog touch that horrid substance. Chocolate sauce! Harrumph."
"I cannot stand chocolate sauce," Franziska agreed.
"I cannot understand why this restaurant even possesses the substance."
"Yes, father. That man should be fired for even touching it."
As the father and daughter snubbed Miles's favorite ice cream topping, Miles became hungry. He slyly sneaked a spoonful of Franziska's sundae and closed his eyes as he savored the chocolately goodness.
"Miles Edgeworth!" Manfred shrieked. "You are fired, as well!"