Though he'd known all throughout today's trial exactly how prepared he was – and exactly how guilty Kristoph Gavin was, aloofly standing there with his chin tilted upwards, condescendingly denying all claims until the very end – it was still an odd moment when he heard the jury's decision; odd as though he'd fallen out of himself and was hearing things from mid-air somewhere. Things had seemed to go on forever, and lies had woven the events of seven years ago so tightly to this trial that he'd felt almost tied down by them. Beside him he vaguely felt Trucy's presence, and it was oddly restrictive. Everything was wonderful, but... it was an alone sort of wonderful.
He excused himself from the bar – and Trucy's company – as soon as he possibly could, leaving the congratulations of the courtroom behind him. A water cooler provided him with the hydration he needed before he sank down onto a chair in the lobby which, seven years ago, had been the hiding place of another victim of the man he'd just bettered. Thank God. If it had gone on much longer, he didn't know how he'd have managed to stay standing there. It was a draining profession... however, he couldn't complain. He could still feel the adrenalin pumping through his veins. It was exciting, too. Exciting to clear Vera's name, and exciting to further blemish his old boss's. He couldn't think of him as Gavin; not anymore. That name produced a mental image of his brother instead, now.
Klavier Gavin. Why had he turned against his brother? It was evident in his eyes that he, like Apollo, strove for justice – but justice alone, surely, couldn't motivate a man to condemn his own brother? The transformation had been astounding. First, the quieter, calmer Klavier that had seemed to wish to appear mature and seasoned before his brother – then, the smirking, confident professional that had been so eager to see that same relative shot down. Fancy the difference! But what had truly motivated it?
Outside, footsteps and voices – some hushed by the authority of the court walls, and others bold and unaffected – marred the silence of the corridor. Apollo ignored the noise; silence was preferable, but not necessary. He just wanted to come to terms with the end of this battle by himself, and though the crowd's chatter was distracting and interrupted his quiet contemplation, it didn't prevent him from doing what he had come here to do. He took another drink of water, and waited for the noise to pass. Before it did, however, another noise met his ringing ears – the sound of the door-handle being turned. Supposing it would be Trucy, come to celebrate, he stood; but instead he was met with a face quite unlike that of the young magician he had anticipated would enter.
"Gavin?" he ventured, though in truth he didn't need to ask, of course. The long, blonde hair and distinctive clothes were absolutely unmistakable, despite his bowed head, which raised at the voice. He, too, appeared surprised to have company, but embraced the notion of not being as alone as he'd imagined smoothly, and nodded with the usual slightly superior smile.
"Herr Forehead."
His shoes – which were heeled, of course, though not remarkably so given his natural height – clicked across the floor as he made his way over to the seating area, finding himself a place to sit down three spaces away from the one Apollo now re-took. There was a period of silence, which wasn't tense despite it all; Apollo interrupted it for fear of forgetting to say something if he didn't do so now. "Thank you for your help in there. You did great."
The blonde man looked to the side with an expression that didn't reveal as much weariness as Apollo supposed he felt. "Well, you certainly needed it." His voice, when it wasn't magnified so that an entire courtroom could hear it, was a softer purr than he might have expected had he not heard it before. The statement was matched with a smile, slightly coy, that served to soften what he was saying and make it more apparent that it was intended as a joke. Neither of them were in much of a state to be on top social form at the moment, and it was entirely possible that Apollo could have taken it the wrong way otherwise. As it was, however, he merely laughed.
"You could say that." It felt odd to be sitting and joking so casually with a man that he had, so many times, opposed in the courtroom. Much like students felt that teachers' lives did not extend beyond their classrooms, Apollo had never really thought about Klavier Gavin as a person beyond his profession and his music. To see him now, attempting to wind down after a troublesome trial, was almost surreal; surreal enough for him to hold his cup of water across and pass it to the other man. "Have a drink."
"Sure; thanks."
Gavin's Americanisms sounded odd in his accent, still slightly tinged with the Hannover German of his youth. It was something that Apollo had always noticed, but of course had never commented on. That would be a fine thing to say in court... "The defence would like to ascertain that the rest of the court agrees on the subject of the prosecution's accent being disturbingly interesting,". No doubt the judge would be impressed with that one – yeah, right. He looked across at Gavin himself as he waited for him to be finished with the drink, but found he was waiting in vain; the man had tipped the cup back and finished it all. Trust him. To his credit, however, he stood back up and filled it again before giving it back. After Apollo's mumbled thanks, the silence resumed.
Eventually Gavin leaned back against the uncomfortable court seat, eyes closed momentarily as he tried to rest. Apollo couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't taken off for home if he was this tired – and, indeed, why he hadn't – but then supposed that there'd be the usual crowd of girls waiting outside for the Gavinners frontman to step outside and sign their autograph books. He pitied him this somewhat, and then this pity grew to encompass the other misfortune the man had encountered today. Again, it was Apollo that broke the silence. "Hey, I'm sorry about your brother."
It took a while for Gavin to respond this time, which Apollo supposed was natural despite his charisma. When he did, he opened his eyes and sat up again; there was sincerity in his expression. "He got what he deserved – just like he did six months ago." Perhaps the expression on Apollo's face was just as telling; Gavin tilted his slightly, and set a smile there as he continued. "There's no need to feel sorry for me – or for him." There was nothing much to say to this, so the smaller man simply nodded and looked down into his water, where he found there was also very little to discuss. Gavin solved the problem for him, however, by carrying on a few moments later. "I simply worry for the Misham girl. Vera."
"Yes," agreed Apollo, smoothing down his hair ineffectively. "Yes. We can only hope that the dosage wasn't high enough, and that she'll pull through."
Gavin confirmed his agreement with a hum, and had been about to say something else when the door opened far less tentatively than it had when the prosecutor had entered. Blue-caped Trucy stood there with Mr. Wright – or could he call him Phoenix, now? – brandishing the purple envelope containing the Gramarye performance rights that had finally been given to her. "Where've you been, Polly? I've been looking everywhere for you. Look what Daddy gave me – from other Daddy!"
The need to say goodbye to Gavin was lost in the humdrum of congratulating her, and being congratulated on the case, and thanking Phoenix; he managed to cast a glance at the man before he left the room, but it was only that, and the prosecutor wasn't looking his way at the time. Instead, he looked distantly at the wall opposite him, and fingered the cup – now empty again after another fit of his thirstiness – that he'd taken from Apollo's seat a while before. Still, it felt like something had changed there; though he looked more alone than ever, he also looked at peace, and Apollo felt loath to interrupt that with any sort of verbal closure, preferring to leave him alone with his few minutes of tranquillity before he was forced to face the proverbial music outside.
