A/N: Hello, everyone! If marshmallow princess has directed you to me, just a little explanation for this story.
Marshmallow princess has made me coauthor of this story, and what we will be doing is she will write a chapter on the original site, then I will rewrite that chapter and post it here. Don't worry, she asked me to help her out with some parts of this story. We eventually came up with this idea and thought we could let you guys decide which one is better.
And I have one other story, Purple Notebook, for Twilight, which I'm sure the majority of you scorn. That's all right with me; marshmallow princess hates the very mention of it. But if you are interested, please check it out.
Now, drum roll, orchestra tune-up, maestro, curtain! Enjoy the show.
Disclaimer: I do not own Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. At all. Never.
Apollo was the only one in the room. He didn't have anything to do, so he was happily relaxing. Everything was quiet, which was perfect. Thinking hard took silence. But silence doesn't last long in Wright Anything Agency, especially when there's Trucy.
"Hey, Apollo!" she greeted, her eyes smiling more than her lips. Trucy's standard powder blue top hat fit snuggly on her head. Her white boots were muffled against the carpet. Twirling her baton, she plopped down on the couch opposite the one Apollo was stretched out on.
Trucy started to jibber-jabber on about something, which Apollo was only half-listening to. He had very little input in the monopolized conversation. He just gave an "mhmm" and "uh huh" every once in a while, pretending he was listening. Trucy wasn't fooled.
"Hey, Apollo, can I have fifty bucks?"
"Mhmm."
"Hey, Apollo, can I rob a bank?"
"Huh? Oh, sure, knock yourself out."
Okay, so he hadn't been paying attention at all when she was telling him Phoenix would be back soon. What could possibly be on his mind?
Hold on . . .
"You're not thinking about her, are you?" she asked slowly, a teasing grin beginning to spread across her face as she spoke. Apollo was snapped out of his revere at that.
"Wh –what?" he stuttered. "N –no, of course not!" He was suddenly nervous. How did she know . . .?
Trucy gave a small tee-hee of a giggle. "So you were? Why don't you just go talk to her like a normal person instead of just wondering and moping about her all day?"
"Not all men are skilled at the art of enchanting women. Also, I am not moping," he pointed out defensively.
"I can help you!" Trucy jumped up, pumped. "Just tell her how you feel."
"That's easier said than done," Apollo muttered.
"True. But you two would still make a really cute couple," she teased, going over to the piano and examining the area around it.
"Yeah, but . . . Trucy . . ." Apollo sighed, looking up. " You're a girl. How do I 'wow' her?"
"First, thank you for your obvious observation of my gender. You know the difference between man and woman. Congratulations.
"Second, roses are great. Especially red ones."
"Yeah, but . . . " Apollo's voice began to creep towards a whine. "I want to stand out."
"Hmm," Trucy thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know how much help this will be, but my idea of romance is a man in a bow tie whisking me away in time in a blue police call box from the 50s." She opened a plastic bin and started rummaging around.
"Who knew you were one for British sci-fi," he noted.
"Well, a girl's gotta keep herself entertained," she grimaced. "But if you want to be original, you can write an anonymous love letter."
"Yeah, but what do I say? And are you looking for?"
"Well, flattery will take you a long way," she suggested. "And I'm looking for a magic prop. It's the little purple box that'll make things disappear." She shut the lid back on the box. Frustrated, she moved to the drawers. "Also, if you say 'yeah, but . . .' one more time, I'm gonna kick your butt."
"Sorry. Habit. And, I don't know where it is. Also, you always tell me that." Apollo reminisced back to what he and his beloved had worked on. His time with her, no matter how long, was always too short.
Trucy was always reminding him about her tidbit of advice. It always seemed to work for her. Maybe . . . "How should I start it?"
"How about, 'To the lovely-"
"Hey, you guys!" Phoenix strode in, interrupting their conversation.
"Hi, Daddy!" Trucy said cheerfully.
"What're you two talking about?" he asked.
"Oh, Apollo just needed some pointers with the ladies," Trucy replied before Apollo could stop her.
"Trucy!" Apollo scolded. He turned to Phoenix. "We weren't talking about anything."
Phoenix laughed. "So, who's the lucky lady?"
"Phoenix!"
"It's Ema, the forensics-loving detective!" Trucy declared in a game-show voice.
"Trucy!" Apollo shouted again angrily. "I don't go telling Phoenix about your love life!"
"Yeah, well," Trucy replied, smiling mischievously, "I like to keep that a secret."
"I trust that you'll make smart decisions, Trucy," Phoenix said, patting his adopted daughter on the head.
Good, Apollo thought, relieved, at least they're off my case.
"So, what are you going to do?" Phoenix asked Apollo.
"About what?"
"Ema, of course!"
And they're right back on. "I dunno. What do you think I should do?"
"That's easy," Phoenix laughed. "Write a love letter."
Wow, like father, like daughter. "I still don't know how to write one, though."
"Still?" Phoenix questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. Trucy was telling me how to write one before you walked in."
"Trucy, you know how to write a love letter?" Phoenix asked, amazed.
"Not exactly . . ." she answered slyly.
"Well, of you're writing a love letter, you want to start with a good heading . . ."
A/N: Well? Please review, saying which version you guys like best. But please, keep it nice, and tell others about this story too.
And, for any of my fans that read this, you know the drill. Tell me if you find any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise, and spread the word. Like, shouting out your feelings about this in Times Square during rush hour. Just kidding, you don't really have to. But wouldn't it be hilarious if someone actually started shouting random things, like music lyrics or something, in Times Square? They would get thumbs up from me for courage and insanity. Good insanity, though.