An After-Dinner Walk
If there weren't any poker challenges for the night, they'd often take a walk together after their meal. Nobody minded so long as he was back within a half hour or so--what were they going to have him do in that time anyway, play the piano?--and it was a relatively pleasant stroll, the neighbourhood being a rather picturesque and safe one with crime rates far lower than the rest of the mad city.
The vague awareness of that statistic was exactly why, when some guy in an oversized leather jacket stopped them and demanded in a shaky voice that they hand over their cash, neither he nor Kristoph initially took the demand all that seriously. The wannabe mugger had omitted putting anything over his face to mask his round and ruddy features, and was rather ineffectively trying to cram his neck down to hide the lower portion of his face under the collar of his jacket. It made for a rather turtle-like look and Phoenix couldn't keep himself from chuckling at the sight. Kristoph was more amicable and smiled kindly at the individual, though he also made no move to retrieve his wallet.
"Surely, my good man, you don't intend to rob us."
The lawyer's voice was calm and perhaps even a bit smug. Catching the subtle amount of that latter quality and being quite aware how it had the ability to rile himself up, Phoenix was about to half-jokingly suggest Kristoph just hand over his damned Versace wallet when the mugger lunged forward. He struck a fist to the lawyer's nose, a right hook that sent the half-rimmed glasses on the man's face clattering to the ground as the attorney reeled back.
Phoenix never did have a very quick reaction time, and so he was just caught staring as Kristoph's arms uncrossed and raised and the other man lashed out, assumedly to grab at the lawyer's coat pockets for any possessions. Though struck and bleeding—a thin trickle of red was dripping from his nose--Kristoph held up rather admirably, managing to shove his assailant back.
And then he saw the mugger reach for something in his jacket, and all he could think was an Oh no before he realized he was rushing forward and shoving the lawyer out of the way. There was a loud sound—so much louder than those on television—followed by a blazing pain in his side that caused him to cry out.
Panicked, as the noise was sure to draw witnesses, the foiled mugger/murderer dropped his weapon and high-tailed it. Phoenix's own knees buckled as he clutched his side, and moments later he collapsed to the ground. He heard footsteps draw near and when he looked up he saw that it was Kristoph, holding a hand to his bleeding nose and looking a little dazed and rumpled but mostly stunned in a manner he'd never seen the man convey before.
"Wright..."
"Yeah, I know. You owe me." He managed to keep amused indifference in his voice but he was pretty stunned himself; the implications of what he'd done were just sinking in.
"Yes, of course. Thank you." It sounded genuine, even coming from Kristoph. And after an awkward silence: "Are you badly hurt?"
He gritted his teeth and looked down, bracing for the sight. Lifting up his hoodie and the t-shirt underneath revealed just a graze, which barely even bleeding... he'd been lucky again. He let out a sigh.
"No, but I think this is a pretty good excuse to take the rest of the night off. Can you go back to the Borscht and tell them while I call the police?"
"Of course." The lawyer continued hovering nearby, seeming reluctant to leave. It was some time before he went over to retrieve his glasses and to wipe his nose, and some time further before he headed back down the sidewalk. Phoenix fumbled in his pockets for his cell phone, but held off on dialling the number.
He told himself he needed Kristoph till he could expose the truth; till he had the evidence he needed. He wanted the man alive to deal with the consequences of his actions, and to know that it had been he that had brought everything to light. Nothing would have been accomplished with his 'friend' getting shot in a botched mugging. That was why he had stepped in.
He knew, however, that that wasn't entirely it. Leaning back and finally punching in those numbers on his phone, he wondered if Kristoph, stumbling half-blind down the street, suspected the same.