Strange Bedfellows – Investigation

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Ace Attorney. All Gyakuten-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Shu Takumi/Capcom.

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Investigation – Day 1

March 15, 10:46 PM

Detention Center

"Let us get one thing perfectly straight before we officially commence our business, Mister Alba," Kristoph Gavin opened, his glasses going opaque for a moment as he adjusted them with a smirk. "There is no doubt within my mind that you are, in fact, guilty of the murders with which you have been charged."

"Really?" Quercus Alba questioned dryly, stroking his beard. "In that case, might I inquire as to the reason you decided to take up my defense in the first place?"

"That cannot possibly be a serious query…former ambassador," Kristoph replied nonchalantly, his glasses still shining brilliantly. "Your upcoming trial is rapidly becoming the talk of multiple countries; any name attached to this case will gain immeasurable fame, regardless of the ultimate result."

Quercus' frown, which had begun to manifest in response to being reminded of his rescinded title, deepened severely at this, until his earlier expression of impassive neutrality gave way to barely concealed fury. "Am I to understand, Herr Gavin," he stated slowly, intentionally butchering his attempt at the defense attorney's native language, "that you have no interest in winning this case at all, then? That you wish simply to…'throw me under the bus,' I believe is the term used in this country…and leapfrog across my executed corpse to glory?"

"Oh, you are misconstruing my words by quite a fair margin, Mister Alba," Kristoph said, waving a hand dismissively. "Although I will indeed attain the fame and notoriety I desire regardless of whether I win or lose in two days, the headlines will doubtlessly be far more…interesting if the former becomes true. Particularly as, completely apart from the social stature of the defendant, the prosecution will also be quite a big name himself – the world-famous Miles Edgeworth, as I'm sure you are aware."

The rage that had been simmering just below the surface of Quercus Alba's aged and wrinkled skin reached its boiling point at the mention of the cravat-wearing prosecutor, and with a furious roar the ostensibly crippled gentleman wrenched himself to his feet, cracking the makeshift walking stick he had been permitted in the Detention Center in two. Kristoph glanced nervously at the guard leaning up against the door nearest to his prospective client, but to his slight surprise the policeman failed to even flinch. In fact, the German national could almost have sworn that he heard him muttering something along the lines of, "Yeah, haven't seen that before. Come back once ya learn how tah pull Chianti outta yer ass, too…"

Regardless of the guard's rather startling indifference, however, Kristoph could not deny that the change that had overtaken the former ambassador was…dramatic, to say the least. No longer did any trace of frailty linger across his withered features, his posture now perfectly straight as he fondled one of the numerous medals set across his breast. "Don't you dare mention that insignificant little worm in my presence, Mister Gavin!" he roared. "Since before he was even in diapers, I have been working in the service of Cohdopia and her twin offspring, and yet still the insufferable whelp managed to affect my ignominious fall from grace. Why, if I still had access to even half the connections that were available to me as an ambassador…"

"Forgive me, Mister Alba…but in my experience assassinations are inefficient and, above all, unreliable unless performed personally," Kristoph interjected with a low chuckle. "If you truly wish to strike down Miles Edgeworth once and for all, I would suggest collaborating with my case to your fullest extent. Only in the courtroom can a wretched amateur like the swine they permit to prosecute in this country be exposed for what they really are."

Quercus Alba moved to respond, but his eyes were inexorably averted to the backside of the defense attorney's right hand. The sallow skin had tensed noticeably as Kristoph insulted his opposite numbers in the realm of law, creating a rather disturbing effect when observed in combination with a wide scar set across the area. In his anger – and, the former ambassador could admit, paranoia – the sight appeared to resemble nothing if not the face of a demon, grimacing menacingly with its stitched mouth.

Kristoph seemed to notice where Quercus was staring after a few moments, however, and a fleeting scowl passed over his normally placid features before he crossed his arms and restored his cool smirk. "In any event, our time grows short; visiting hours end in about two minutes," he explained, pulling out a handful of papers from his briefcase as he did. "Now is the time for your final decision, Mister Alba. Sign these documents if you wish for me to represent you at Sunday's trial…otherwise, you'll have to make due with one of our 'esteemed' public defenders. And considering America's justice department isn't likely to be quite as friendly to you as Allebahst's will be…"

"Fine, fine…you have made your point eminently clear," Quercus responded irritably, pulling the papers toward him. Several pregnant beats passed as the former ambassador glowered at the legal files and then at the Detention Center security camera, before he sighed deeply and offered his practiced signature. "It appears the English's old adage is correct, Mister Gavin," he breathed, gazing intently at the defense attorney's imperceptible mask and vividly recalling the small sliver of his true self that had shined through in his brief moment of tension. "Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."

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Investigation – Day 2

March 16, 9:22 AM

Theatrum Neutralis

To say that the Cohdopian Embassy was in a state of disarray would be doing the building a gross disservice. The inferno that had devastated the Babahlese side was bad enough on its own, but to worsen the situation by several thousand degrees the entire embassy was quite literally crawling with Interpol agents, dozens and dozens of meaningless insects interfering with Kristoph's ability to investigate the crime scene in peace. After a few minutes of attempting to navigate through the throng of blathering imbeciles to the location of Quercus Alba's purported crime, the German national finally gave up and asked one of the faceless goons to direct him to the person in charge.

That person, as it turned out, was a young man bedecked in a jet-black, fur-collared jacket and an intricate pair of sunglasses, which he removed dramatically as Kristoph calmly approached him. "Lang Zi says: 'Be wary of those who appear most unassuming; the sliest predator camouflages itself so as to avoid detection,'" he growled. "Now, who are you supposed to be?"

"Kristoph Gavin, attorney-at-law," the tanned blond answered, shaking his head slightly at the agent's rude tone. "I represent former ambassador Quercus Alba."

"Hmmph," the slightly older man grunted. "Defense attorneys are only marginally more acceptable than prosecutors in my book…playing every dirty trick in the book just to get slime like Alba off the hook for their sins. You'll be getting no information out of Shi-Long Lang or his loyal pack, and that's a promise."

"I require no particular information from the likes of you, Agent Lang," Kristoph pronounced, his smile unwavering as he affixed the Zheng Fa national with his trademark stare – the one that had been striking fear into the hearts of every prosecutor this side of the Von Karma clan ever since he had passed the bar at fifteen. "All I truly need are directions to the chamber where Manny Coachen is alleged to have been murdered."

"What part of 'no information' don't you get, pretty boy?" Lang barked. "Lang Zi says: 'Never reveal even the slightest whiff of meat to your enemy, for he may be risen by the scent and rip out your throat in his pursuit of further fulfillment.'" Replacing his sunglasses and turning away, the Interpol investigator added scornfully, "Or, to put it another way…piss off."

Kristoph Gavin's fists clenched tightly at the insult, the Devil that lived within one of them smiling plaintively at the ground, but his cool demeanor did not waver. Instead, he merely extracted an ordinary American dollar from his wallet and a pen from his coat pocket, shattered the latter in two, and let the black ink smear across the slender bill before handing it off to the surly agent. "You are from Zheng Fa, are you not? Just a little reminder of home, then," he remarked, parting from Shi-Long Lang with a cheerful wave.

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Investigation – Day 2

March 16, 9:43 AM

Theatrum Neutralis

Fortunately, Quercus Alba appeared to have spent the entirety of his short time in prison jotting down every conceivable detail regarding the incident he had codenamed "Ablaze," his almost insane levels of preparedness clearly having not been impeded by such trivial matters as not actually possessing an attorney until about eight hours prior. As such, with notes in-hand Kristoph knew that he had to locate the room where the ceremonial gift of several hundred Samurai Dogs had been stored that day; the only question was how.

The stage upon which the inane exhibition of that ridiculous children's action hero had taken place was set off from at least a dozen additional chambers, all of them fairly nondescript and saturated with far too many of Agent Lang's toadying subordinates for Kristoph to really get a good look. Unfortunately, the wolfish Interpol investigator appeared to have issued an order banning any of his hundred or so men from offering the defense attorney so much as the time of day, leaving Kristoph with absolutely no way of discerning just where to investigate next…or at least they would have, if the bespectacled German hadn't eventually run smack-dab into the ridiculous action hero in question.

Alba's notes gave the actor's name as Larry Butz, and that was about as positive as the former ambassador's appraisal of the spiky-haired young man before him grew. Smirking cockily at Kristoph as he flexed the foam muscles of his metallic costume, the absurd buffoon cemented the blond lawyer's already rock-bottom opinion of his character by asking smarmily, "Hey, gorgeous…come here often?"

Kristoph simply crossed his arms behind his back and waited patiently for the would-be Casanova to realize his error, which occurred several moments later and with quite a disproportionate level of drama. "Oh my God, I'm so sooooooooory!" Larry Butz exclaimed, his face sweating and his jaw grinding. "For a second there, you looked like this German barmaid that winked at me this one time…Johanna, I think? Or was it Julianne…"

Now lost in his own world as he attempted in vain to recall the name of the maiden in question, the brunette was forcing Kristoph to master a very strong impulse to smash his face in. "You are Mister Larry Butz, correct?" he began genially, dusting imaginary grime from his suit. "I am defense attorney Kristoph Gavin, and I would like to make inquiry as to a few particular details regarding the recent incident."

"Man, you sure talk a lot fancier than Nick does!" Larry yelped, his eyes wide. "But even then, it's still same-old, same-old with all you defense lawyers…blah blah investigate, blah blah gather evidence, blah blah objection…why can't you guys ever have a little love in your souls?"

Kristoph cocked an eyebrow at this "observation," before explaining in carefully measured tones, "My apologies, Mister Butz, but 'love' is not the reason why I have ventured to this embassy today. My only purpose here is to collect evidence and testimony that will help to exonerate my client, Quercus Alba."

"See, there you go with all those fancy words again!" Larry shouted triumphantly, before leaning inward and placing a hand to the side of his mouth as if sharing a secret. "Now, I'm not really sure what 'ek-zon-err-eight' means, but if you're trying to get that Alba guy off, there's something that I gotta tell you," he whispered conspiratorially. "Are you ready? This is probably gonna come as a big shock, but that dude…is guilty!"

Kristoph Gavin stared at the amateur actor for several long moments before calmly pushing him to a straight-backed position. "I will be the one deciding that, Mister Butz," he pronounced harshly. "Now if you will please, kindly direct me to the chamber where several dozen cartons of Samurai Dogs were stored on the night of the murder. It has become increasingly clear to me throughout our brief dialogue that you will not suffice as an informative witness."

"Hey, what the heck's that supposed to mean?" Larry screeched, his fists clenched and his jaw extended out. "I can so be a good witness! Just ask Nick…okay, maybe not Nick, but Edgey…well, he probably wouldn't have too many nice things to say either, but…"

"I rest my case," Kristoph muttered under his breath, before raising his voice and pressing on, "Once again, directions to the previous location of the ceremonial Samurai Dogs. I won't ask thrice."

And in his frustration at the infuriating fool standing across from him, the German defense attorney neglected to conceal his right hand as it clenched and revealed the Devil within, something that Larry seemed to notice in the split-second before Kristoph remembered himself and let his sleeve slide down to his fingers. In any event, that appeared to be the only logical explanation for the slender brunette blanching severely and squeaking, "Err, that'd be that dressing room over there…sir…"

"Danke schön, Mister Butz," Kristoph responded with a simpering smile, before turning away from what he very, very much hoped to be his last glimpse of Larry Butz.

Larry, for his part, waved back awkwardly until the blond lawyer was out of earshot, at which point he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a well-practiced number. "Edgey?" he asked, receiving an earful in return. "Okay, yeah, I know you told me not to bother you until after the trial was over, but…well, I think you're gonna wanna hear this anyway…"

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Investigation – Day 2

March 16, 11:06 AM

Eldoon's Noodles

"Blast that man…always has to arrive late to everything," Miles Edgeworth grumbled, consuming another mouthful of Eldoon's Extra-Salty Ramen Surprise and shuddering at the overwhelming flavor of saline. If the magenta-suited prosecutor had had his choice, he would have much preferred to meet at a teahouse or something of the sort, but Wright had insisted on this beaten-up noodle stand for some strange reason. Per usual, he found at least ninety-percent of what went on in that spiky-haired head utterly incomprehensible.

It was about five minutes later that the defense attorney in question finally showed up, his hands in his pockets and a goofy grin on his face. "Sorry Edgeworth, but Maya changed her mind at the last second and decided she'd much rather go for burgers than ramen," explained Phoenix Wright, chuckling awkwardly. "I had to arrange for Gumshoe to drop her and Pearls off at Burger Sultan, and you know how…err…unreliable his car can be."

"Indeed," Edgeworth replied taciturnly, taking a sip of the over-salted broth. "You really need to stop allowing your assistant to dictate your life like this, however. Maya Fey is not a girl for whom indulgence of every one of her eccentricities would be an intelligent course of action."

"You try saying that when Maya's in one of her 'I-must-eat-over-nine-thousand-burgers-or-else-I-will-go-on-a-bloody-killing-spree' moods," Phoenix countered, sweating at the thought. "Trust me; refusing her isn't as easy as it looks."

"Ah, kids these days! Don't have respect for nothin'!" Mister Eldoon interjected, poking his head out of the noodle cart and making it eminently clear that he had been eavesdropping the whole time. "Why, I keep tellin' my boy Guy that he needs to start learnin' the family business – I mean, he's nearly forty, for Christ's sake! – but nooooo, all he wants to do is be a doctor! So now I'm stuck with no one to pass down the secrets of my noodle recipes, all because I let that kid have just plain too much freedom! Don't make that same mistake with your daughter, Mister Wright; I guarantee that it won't turn out well."

"Hey! Maya isn't my daughter!" the ace attorney cried, shivering intensely at the thought of bringing up a girl with Maya's appetite from birth. "I don't even have a daughter…much less one that's already a teenager!"

"Fine, fine!" Eldoon bellowed, holding up his hands defensively. "Anyway, I'm running pretty low on salt – only got three sacks left! – so can you watch the stand for the next fifteen minutes or so while I run to the store?"

"Err…sure, Mister Eldoon, I guess…" Phoenix answered uncertainly, but the older man was already sprinting up the street by the time the words left his lips.

"Well, I suppose this at least affords us some measure of privacy," Edgeworth declared, motioning for his childhood friend to sit down. "So shall we return to actual business, Wright?"

"Right," Phoenix responded, shaking his head wearily. "You mentioned something about a call from Larry?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Edgeworth affirmed, matching his frequent courtroom rival's tired expression. "You recall the details of my brief explanation of the case I am currently working upon, correct?"

"The Quercus Alba trial? Everyone and their mother knows the details of that case, Edgeworth," the defense attorney asserted, pulling out an article on the subject from his briefcase. "The former ambassador of a foreign nation being accused of double-murder on both American and international soil in the same night…the media haven't had their hands on a legal scoop this juicy since I indicted Diego as the murderer in Iris' trial."

"Whatever happened to that man, incidentally?" Miles Edgeworth found himself asking, before coughing and hastily adding, "I mean to say…he did good work for the Prosecutor's Office, that's all. And considering that he appeared to be in critical condition last I saw of him, I…feel I owe him my concern."

"He held on longer than we thought he would, but he never ended up leaving the hospital after checking in there for the final time," Phoenix related solemnly. "Diego Armando stuck around for a couple weeks after the trial so that he could set his affairs in order, but…well, his body never completely recovered from the poisoning. He passed on right at the end of February, with the funeral being held the day you returned to the country; I took Maya and Pearls on a trip to Gatewater Land right afterward to try and cheer them up about it."

"I believe I recall seeing you three there, in fact…at least briefly," Edgeworth reflected. "But enough about all that – we need to avoid getting sidetracked further. Now, are you aware of the identity of the attorney who will be facing me in tomorrow's trial?"

"Nope," the blue-suited lawyer admitted. "On your advice I stayed away from the case myself, and warned off everyone at Grossberg's firm to do likewise…so I really don't know who else would be taking up Alba's defense around here. Has he even got an attorney by this point?"

"Apparently so…at least, according to Larry," Edgeworth informed him. "He recently told me that the legendary Kristoph Gavin has been poking around the embassy, claiming that Quercus Alba is his client. You are aware of Gavin's reputation, are you not?"

"Umm…well, to be honest…not so much…" Phoenix confessed in a small voice, causing Edgeworth to rub his temples in apparent exasperation.

"Really, Wright, I would think you would at least have the sense to keep better tabs on the individuals working in your own profession," he chastised, before his general inclination toward doling out information won out. "Kristoph Gavin is an unqualified prodigy, much on the level of Franziska, and despite working on the institutionally disadvantaged side of the courts he has nonetheless maintained a spotless win-record for the past ten years. His uncanny ability to maintain his composure, even amidst the most strenuous of circumstances, has earned him the nickname 'the coolest defense in the West' from various legal publications, and his decision to move his own private firm, Gavin Law Offices, from Berlin to Los Angeles made major headlines several months ago. I'm quite surprised you didn't hear about it from the newspapers, if nothing else."

"Now that you mention it, I do think it rings a couple of bells…y'know, kinda…" Phoenix mumbled, trying to save face. "Err, wait a minute…isn't he the guy studying law and singing in a rock band on the side? I definitely remember hearing the name 'Gavin' in relation to music…but no, the ages couldn't possibly match…"

"You're probably thinking of Kristoph's younger brother, Klavier Gavin," Edgeworth stated, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers. "He's still in law school, though due to graduate within a week or so; this I know because he has expressed serious interest in coming to work at the Prosecutor's Office. In the realm of law he is just as much a prodigy as his elder sibling…although I cannot speak for his purported musical abilities."

Shaking his head again, the cravat-wearing prosecutor continued, "But that's irrelevant to the point I am attempting to make. While Kristoph Gavin's legal skills, in-and-of-themselves, cannot be denied, rather unsavory rumors have surrounded him for years. Forging evidence, blackmailing witnesses, threatening police detectives…one publication went so far as to call him 'Manfred von Karma on the other side of the bench.' And though these tales have never advanced beyond the level of idle gossip, their very existence worries me."

"How come? You're not exactly a slouch in the courtroom either, Edgeworth," Phoenix encouraged, but the brunette waved away the compliment.

"Your rather astounding string of skin-of-your-teeth successes aside, Wright, it is not always possible for an attorney playing strictly by the letter of the law to overcome someone willing to do anything to attain victory," Edgeworth elaborated. "And though I discarded my concern over maintaining a perfect win-record at all costs long ago, much more rides on the outcome of this trial than on an average case.

"Quercus Alba is far more than a single man; he is the centerpiece of a vast criminal empire, and an acquittal for him could jeopardize the upcoming trials of Cammy Meele, Ernest Amano, Jacques Portsman, Shih-na…and those are merely the tip of the iceberg," the magenta-suited prosecutor went on. "In addition, Franziska is handling Alba's prosecution in Allebahst next week, and the small kingdom is under enormous international pressure to reform its justice system as it proceeds toward reunification with Babahl. If Alba is declared innocent in the United States, it would set a highly dangerous precedent that could end up setting back that process by several years at least."

"Alright…I understand the severity of the situation now," Phoenix said with a grave nod. "So how do you want me to help?"

"Err…what do you mean by that, Wright?" Edgeworth questioned confusedly.

"Hey, you've provided me with more than enough assistance on my most difficult cases," Phoenix reminded him with a smile. "Dee Vasquez, Damon Gant, Matt Engarde, the resurrected Dahlia Hawthorne…all of them would have gone free without justice being served, had you not interfered in time. It seems only fair that I return the favor by doing everything I can to make sure Gavin plays this trial by the book. Mark my words: no forged evidence is going to be submitted under my watch."

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Investigation – Day 2

March 16, 2:29 PM

Gavin Law Offices

Kristoph Gavin was forging evidence; hardly an unusual occurrence for him this close to an important trial. Indeed, the blond German almost had the act down to an art form by this point; simply examining a crime scene thoroughly, determining what sort of object could logically have been "missing" from there, and then producing that object out of whole cloth was child's play. True, the miniscule risk of being caught in such an illicit act made Kristoph reticent to employ it for every trial he participated in, but Quercus Alba's spectacular acquittal was poised to be his ticket to worldwide fame and fortune. For this particular case, all the stops would need to be pulled out.

While Samurai Dogs were not strictly supposed to be available to the public in their original packaging, finding an unopened box on the black market on such short notice had not been inordinately difficult. In any event, dust and other residue extracted from the dressing room were currently being expertly applied to the carton by a paid-off forensic technician, allowing it to appear as if it, like the others, had been seized by Interpol in the aftermath of the incident.

"And now, for the coup-de-grâce," the scientist announced triumphantly, readying a small pipette. "Where's the DNA sample, sir?"

"Actually, I don't currently possess it…but I am going to attempt to rectify that issue very shortly," Kristoph answered cheerfully, before tapping a ponderous finger against his chin. "In fact, now that I think about it, I should be able to handle the remainder of the preparations myself. You go home and relax; the transfer to your private account has already gone through, and I've arranged for a celebratory bottle of fine champagne to be delivered to your apartment as an added gift. Do be sure to enjoy it."

"Thanks a million, Mister Gavin, sir!" the forensics specialist admonished happily, his thoughts already swimming with the sweet taste of sparkling wine as he shook the defense attorney's tanned hand and bounded out of the makeshift laboratory that he had set up within the law office. Kristoph, for his part, merely smiled at how quickly this potential loose-end had managed to wrap itself up.

After all, it was a fairly open secret amongst the Los Angeles police force that the scientist in question couldn't hold his beverages very well; presumably, atroquinine would be no exception.

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Investigation – Day 2

March 16, 4:14 PM

Detention Center

"Good afternoon, Miss Shih-na," greeted Kristoph Gavin genially.

"Let's get one thing completely squared away before you embark on whatever inane drivel you wish to question me with," the traitorous former Interpol agent declared disinterestedly. "'Shih-na' is not my real name."

"Very well…Miss Calisto Yew, then," Kristoph said, his smile unwavering.

"Wrong again, imbecile," she drawled. "Just another one of my hundreds upon hundreds of aliases. And before you ask, no, I have no intention of sharing my true name with you or anyone else involved in this case. Hell, I'm not even entirely sure I remember how to spell it, given that I haven't utilized it in over twenty years."

"Then what do you propose I call you?" Kristoph asked, leaning a bit closer to the glass.

The older woman sighed with boredom as she intensely examined her nails, before finally replying, "I suppose Anja Elle will do for you, Mister Gavin. That was the name under which I assassinated your father, after all."

"Really? I must extend you my humblest gratitude, then," Kristoph responded, the smug smirk still dancing across his thin lips. "Without the return from dear Vater's life insurance policy, I might not have been able to attend law school as early as I did. So my eternal thanks go out to you for that laudable act, Miss Elle."

The woman currently choosing to go by Anja Elle had a rather strange reaction to this revelation; rather than being horrified at the defense attorney's cold callousness or persisting in her mask of rigid indifference, a series of strained noises, punctuated by rather odd spasms, began to bubble up from within her wicked core, until finally the professional killer was laughing uproariously, writhing back-and-forth within her metal seat. After nearly half a minute of this however the cacophonous mirth managed to die down to a low chuckle, allowing her to choke out, "Thank you for that – haven't had the chance for a good, hearty laugh since they brought me in."

"I could tell," Kristoph observed patiently, before leaning forward even further and adding, "But of course, I came here for far more pertinent matters than discussions of your name or my late, entirely unmissed father."

"So why exactly did you decide to have them retrieve me from my cell?" she inquired, matching his actions; his provocation of her laugh reflex appeared to have alleviated her chronic boredom, at least for the moment. "Unless you're looking for tips for your next trial, in which case I regret to inform you that my qualifications as Calisto Yew were entirely faked. My fairly impressive trial record was attained mostly by arranging my cases so that I faced off against Winston Payne as often as possible."

"That's not quite it, though it's far closer to the crux of the matter than our previous thread of conversation," the German national pronounced, adjusting his glasses slightly. "I very recently took up the defense of former ambassador Quercus Alba, and I would like to ask you a few things about your involvement in last Thursday's incident."

"And now I understand your angle," the variably named woman remarked cynically. "Let me make this eminently clear: I have absolutely no loyalty to any man who lives upon this Earth, and that includes Quercus Alba. If I'm going down, I'm taking that ancient fool down with me."

"You do understand that you are merely delaying the inevitable, correct?" Kristoph commented, smirking more wildly. "Miles Edgeworth will doubtlessly be placing you on the stand to explain all of this tomorrow…under oath."

"Then I'm looking forward to matching wits with him once more," she rejoined, the first signs of another cackling session spewing from her soft lips. "That bratty prosecutor may be a stuck-up, stoic stick-in-the-mud, but he's also the only man I've ever met whose mind was anywhere near as brilliant as my own. Apart, perhaps, from yourself."

"Why, thank you," Kristoph replied graciously, offering his hand through the tiny gap in the glass. "In that case, I shall anticipate an intense trialogue alongside the both of you as soon as the opportunity arises. Until then, Miss Elle…or whatever you shall choose to entitle yourself during tomorrow's trial."

"Until then, Mister Gavin," the enigmatic woman agreed, taking his hand but withdrawing it a second later. "You should really give some thought to cutting your nails in the interim," she appended irritably, nursing a bad cut across her palm. "Otherwise, people might begin to…talk."

"But if I trimmed my illustrious cuticles, how in the world would I apply my Ariadoney nail polish?" Kristoph retorted jovially, already turning to exit the Detention Center with his crimson prize shimmering brilliantly upon his fingers.