"Hey, hey, hey, Herr Forehead, Herr Forehead…" The German prosecutor repeated, poking the back of the brown-haired defense's head. He'd been doing this for hours. Klavier, stop. Just…stop. Apollo thought to himself, hoping that his thoughts would send to the brain of the platinum-blonde rockstar, though he knew that that wasn't how it worked.
"Achtung! Forehead! I know that you hear me! It's important, so lift your shiny forehead from those work papers and listen up, ja?" Klavier was being bossy, not unlike usual. He then began to violently rock the chair. Apollo was on his last nerve.
The defense attorney turned to the German, a dark, tired shadow in his chocolate brown eyes.
"Yes… Klavier, what is it…!?" Apollo said through gritted teeth. The prosecutor looked around with a somewhat guilty look on his face.
"What is it, Gavin? What is it that you bothered me for a dreaded half an hour for!?" Apollo was now sitting on the black swivel chair backwards, tightening his grip on the back of the chair.
"…Forehead." The rockstar mumbled, but loud enough for the other to hear him.
"Yes!?" The defense yelled, his signature 'Chords of Steel' kicking in at that moment. His face showed one too many signs of anger, making the German feel slightly more uncomfortable and guilty.
"…If you're going to get so…bissig about it, never mind. Carry on."
Apollo growled in an inhumanly manner and went back to writing.