Very Good

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It was the tray that sold it. The soft, creamy orange fabric (she looked like an orange creamsicle in a skirt) was pretty, and the frills were nicely done, but it really was the tray that sold it. It wouldn't be too farfetched to imagine (and especially not for a forward-thinking lawyer!) her standing around, carrying innocent-looking glasses with slices of fruit and lemon on the rim that were nonetheless vicious enough to put a grown man on the floor, babbling incoherently, for about three days straight. More likely than not, however, she would be carrying around misleadingly good-looking plates of overpriced food that were better served—(ha ha)— sitting on shelves looking pretty than actually being eaten.

But it was the tray that sold it. She looked so deliciously cute carrying around her circular tray folded over her chest, it was impossible to simply ignore. Then her sister had shown up, and Phoenix Wright almost died.

Why Maya had continued to work at the restaurant days after the case had been solved, the ace defense attorney didn't know. What he did know, however, as he walked down the street, watching a painfully familiar old man walk out of Trés Bien with a goofy smile on his face, was why people continued to visit the place long after their bank accounts had fallen into the danger zone. Phoenix could sympathize with the sentiment—if they had sold chocolate milk, he would be all over Trés Bien like pink on rice.

The restaurant was pink and pretty, and Maya was orange. There was no one in the restaurant, so Maya sat at one of the empty tables, with a bag of popcorn, swinging her legs back and forth, her tray sitting idle and empty on the tabletop. Phoenix hadn't ever noticed it when she wore her medium's robe, but Maya had really cute legs. He almost wished she didn't; it was making it very uncomfortable to walk around, and he had the damndest feeling that if Maya spontaneously channeled Mia, he would be in for a mighty rough scolding. And he knew what her scoldings were like. He shuddered just thinking about it.

"Nick!" Maya said as Phoenix walked into the restaurant. She laughed. The crystal baubles in her hair swished around as she stood up quickly and smiled on cue. "Can I take your order?"

She's so cute when she says 'can I take your order?' It almost makes me want to buy something. Almost.

Phoenix looked around, craning his head to see if anyone might be hiding in the kitchen. "Uh, hi, Maya. Um—Is there anyone else here?"

Maya shook her head and fell back against her chair. "Nah. Mr. Armstrong is out. I'm the only one here. Everyone else had the day off, I guess."

"Do they even pay well at this place?" Phoenix took a seat opposite Maya.

Maya shook her head again. She seemed surprised. "Uh, no."

"I didn't think so," Phoenix said. He sighed and smiled. "Keep an eye on your valuables."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Maya said, and for a moment her happy-go-lucky smile turned to a look of pure concern. "I don't have any way of being sure, but…"

"What?" Phoenix asked. "What's wrong?"

"I think…I'm missing one of the sticks of gum I had before."

Awkward silence. Phoenix looked around the room, wondering whether someone was going to pop out from some hiding place somewhere and yell that yes, he was indeed dreaming and there was no coming back from the place he had cornered his mind.

"Gum?" Phoenix repeated. He raised one eyebrow. "What…"

"Well," Maya said, placing her hand on her chin, thinking, "I had moved everything I had from my medium's robes to my uniform, and I know that I had three sticks of gum, but the last time I checked my pockets, I only had two."

"Hmm." Phoenix was doing everything he could not to roll his eyes. He had to fight the urge not to put his legs up on the table; after all, the place was empty. "Maybe you just dropped a stick?"

"Nick!" Maya said, huffing. "I don't drop stuff. I temporarily misplace them." She grinned and looked around. "But this is a real mystery. Nick…you don't think…Mr. Armstrong coulda—"

"No," Phoenix said. "If it was a bottle of rose incense, maybe. Or anything worth more than two and a half cents. Did you feel anyone, um, rifling through your pockets?" Jeez, I hope not. How the heck does anyone wear these uniforms anyway?

Maya shook her head. "Naw, nothing like that. I'm trying to think. The only people who've been in here all day have been Mr. Armstrong and the old man."

"Whaaat? You serious? They're the only two who've been here? No other customers? No other waitresses?"

"Nope," Maya said. She shrugged. "Mr. Armstrong said she's been having a hard time finding new waitresses. I almost feel bad for her."

Him, Maya, Phoenix thought. Him. After all that bad publicity from that case, I'm not surprised he's not finding anybody. And anyway, why the heck are you still here if no one's coming in?

Maya stood up and started walking around, one foot then the next in dramatic high-step, then she twirled around and spun facing towards the table before stumbling backwards. She was cute when she spun around like that. No, he didn't just think that. That wasn't the first thought that had crossed his mind, no, no—actually, yes. Yes it was. Phoenix sighed.

"Whoa…dizzy," Maya said, chuckling as she staggered around drunkenly for her chair.

Phoenix shook his head. "Maya, what is that thing you're wearing on your head?"

"Huh? What thing?" Maya said. Feeling around at her hair, she touched the white frilly thing and went 'oh'. "Uh, that's a frill. It's supposed to be cute. That's the style. Come on, Nick, get with the times!"

Maya, you didn't even know you were wearing it! You think wearing a baseball cap is 'cutting edge'!

Phoenix leaned back and crossed his arms. "So, have you actually done any work today?"

"Huh?"

"You know…work? Like, stuff you do that you have to do, and that's why you get paid?"

"Nope," Maya said, walking over to the table. She threw herself back against her chair and slumped down with a thump. "That's not ringing any bells there, Nick."

Sigh. Phoenix grinned. Now he was positive this was all some surreal postmodernist illusion. "So why are you still here, anyway? How long ago did Mr. Armstrong leave?"

"Uh, let's see," Maya said, and she looked down at her pink watch with the big rose in the center. Phoenix assumed it was some sort of 'please don't leave me all alone in zis place!' peace offering. "It's just about five o'clock now, and Mr. Armstrong left at three, so about two hours."

"What? You've been here alone for two hours? What about, uh…Mr., uh…" Phoenix racked his brain. He was about to say 'that crazy old seed guy' when the answer came to him in a burst of seeds. "Mr. Kudo! That's it! Didn't he just leave here?"

"Oh. Yeah. Actually, he was asleep most of the time."

"So what did you do while you, uh…waited?"

"Well, I played a couple games of Solitaire—with a real deck of cards, Nick! I bet you didn't even know you could do that!—and then I ate some popcorn, and then you showed up."

"Sounds fascinating." Phoenix looked at Maya, who pushed back against the table-divider behind her, arcing her back, stretching out with her arms behind her. She yawned. At the exclusion of all other thoughts—especially the memory of that awful "The Real Mask DeMasque" mockumentary he had seen on TV a few days before—Phoenix noticed just how well she had grown and how nicely her uniform fit her.

"Wait, real playing cards?"

"Yeah!" Maya said, nodding. "Each card has got a different flower on the face. They're really cool. Wanna see?" She shuffled around in her pocket with an impatient look. "I stuffed it in my pocket."

How does she fit stuff in there? Phoenix marveled, his jaw agape. That pocket's tiny.

"W-wait a minute! Why did you stuff the deck in your pocket?"

Uh oh. She's actually learning from her boss. That's actually really not good. At all.

"Why? Do I really need a reason? Some things are just meant to be, Nick. It's destiny!"

"Right," Phoenix said. He looked out through the window. The sun was showing signs of wanting to slump down over the horizon. "Uh, you wanna go home now? I get the feeling that nothing interesting's going to be happening any time soon."

"Really? You sure that's all right?" Maya asked, spinning her tray around on the tabletop. "I mean, Mr. Armstrong isn't—"

"That's okay. I don't think that he's going to be coming back for a while anyway."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I think he ditched you, Maya. I really, really do.

"Hmm…well, okay," Maya said, hopping up. "Let me go change back into my other stuff."

"Actually, why don't you just grab your channeling robes and bring that uniform home. Then you'll have something to wear when your 'normal' clothes are in the wash."

"Aww. You mean I won't be able to wear your gray 'Ivy University' sweatshirt and sweatpants any more?"

"Mmf!" Phoenix said, nearly choking on the chocolate milk that he wasn't drinking but had an urge to drink. He felt his face get hot. "N-no, of course you won't have to! Er, I mean, if you want to, you can. Anyway, if all your channeling stuff is dirty, might as well have something else to wear, right?"

Maya put her hand on her chin and thought. "I guess I can. Although I guess that would be considered stealing…"

And filching the playing cards isn't? Phoenix scratched his head in wonderment. Maya never ceased to amaze him. She also never ceased to surprise, baffle, and otherwise make him wonder if he was only starting to skim the surface of all the weird in the world.

"Oh well," Maya said, shrugging. "Guess I could use another outfit—Ah!" Maya jumped up.

"What?!?"

"Nick! I just remembered!"

"Remembered what?"

"I had a piece of gum today!"

"Um…okay. So?"

"So?" Maya said, incredulous. "Don't you see? That's where my other stick of gum went! I figured it out, Nick! Another mystery put to rest!"

"Well, that's good to hear," Phoenix said. He tried to stifle a roll of his eyes and failed miserably. The restaurant had fallen silent. "Anyway, you wanna go?"

"Sure," Maya said. She slipped into the back room and returned with her usual clothes slung over her shoulder. "Let's go."

"Um, take the tray too," Phoenix said. For your tray-ning. "For your, um, tray-ning." Crap! Did I actually say that aloud? Craaap—

"You okay, Nick? That joke was pretty flat, even by your standards. And that's saying something."

"Y-yeah. Okay. I meant, you might as well take the tray while you're at it. I mean, I'm sure he won't miss any, and we could use, um…a tray."

Another hand against her chin pensively. "Actually," Maya recalled, "Mr. Armstrong said she's getting a little bit short on—"

"Oh, just grab the tray and come on."

She shrugged and slid the tray under her arm. "All right, let's go." They left the restaurant and Maya put her free arm around Phoenix's torso. "Let's go get a pizza from Pizza Land. I'm so hungry, I could eat an Octorok!"

Where the heck did that little gem come from? Phoenix smiled, chuckled. Somehow Maya always managed to put him in a good mood, and her frilly orange arm curling around him didn't hurt, either.

"Sure, let's go."

As they walked towards the pizza place, Phoenix made a mental note to wear his old "Ivy U" sweatshirt more often.