Head in his hands, Apollo groaned. He was seated upon the sofa in defendant lobby No.5, palms to his eyes as he wallowed. The moment of self-pity was pathetic, but could the Clarion Revelations really be blamed? In his eagerness to take on a new client, Apollo had bitten off more than he could chew. As it stood, he was doomed.

The defendant had kept too much secrets, and as the trial progressed, more and more of what she had failed to mention earlier was being used to promise her conviction and capital punishment. Before long, the courtroom had gotten into such an uproar about the supposed killer's presence being proven through the time of the murder that a ten minute recess was called.

Through the first two minutes of this break, Apollo had questioned his client of their innocence. With his bracelet's lacking pinch as she confirmed that, yes, she wasn't the killer, Apollo left to plop down atop the foyer's couch and brood.

How, he thought to himself in silence, was he was suppose to get through this?

Sitting there in his sorrowful state for what felt like hours, but in actuality was only a minute and a half, sudden weight distribution over the furnishing's cushions gave tell that someone had chosen to sit next to him.

Wanting to tell whoever this person was that he wasn't in the mood for conversation, Apollo lifted his head from his hands and shot a glare at who he would discovered to be Ema Skye. Instantly his eyes went wide. All grump was drained from his youthful features, being replaced by shock.

"Ema, you….?"

"Arn't apart of this case? No, I'm not." She was sitting similarly to how Apollo was just seconds ago, slouching forward with elbows to knees. The only difference between the two poses would be how Ema was holding her cheeks, looking out towards at the lobby. "My trial wrapped up ten minutes ago, and I was just about to call it a day until…" Lowering her hands and tilting her head so as to meet Apollo's surprised gaze, she'd sported the usual, bored countenance. "I heard about the mess you've gotten yourself into." Lips pursing and brows furrowing, Ema adopted a new questioning look of concern.

Here, Apollo began to frown again. "So everyone's already hearing about my failure.." He was ready to retreat back to his near fetal like position once more and furrow his face into his hands, but before any fretting could be indulged upon, Ema, again, caught his attention.

With a sticker.

The failed scientist had dug through her purse, bringing out a sheet of the the adhesive yet colorful decals that mimicked her pins—cartoonish, emoticon like designs of atoms. Selecting the sticker representing nitrogen, she slapped it across her sorrowful companion's cheek.

"Apollo, I want you to listen to me. This case is even more needlessly complicated than nearly all my investigates, and that's probably just one big, awful migraine to deal with, but you can pull through. Believe me. is almost always being cornered, yet he still manages to find his way out. Scientifically speaking, I don't expect anything less from you!" To prove her words genuine, both a grin and thumbs up were offered to the defense attorney. Who, for the record, was completely dumfounded.

Yes, him and Ema were becoming relatively close friends, but he had never witnessed her like this—so cheery and kind and... She was almost like Clay, what with her oddball gesture and inspiring words.

Suddenly, a new fire of determination began to burn within him. A smirk curled along Apollo's lips as he clenched his fists, allowing the detective's short speech seep in and fuel the newfounded flame of resolve. For someone who was dreading everything just moments ago, he was incredibly fired up, now. Nodding once with a short, affirmative hum, he stood.

"I'M APOLLO JUSTICE AND I'M FINE!"