AN: gonna try wri(gh)ting exercises, a few friends pointed out my writing recently lack the emotion needed in some parts. I realize i can't write a story long... yet.
Goodbye time management haHA
Wasn't it that your great grandfather was Sherlock Holmes?
You ask because in the awkward silence ensuing there's so much to glean from just being around the man behind the glass of the detention center.
You tap on the small desk before you, humming in a tone between nonchalant and upbeat. Eyes roam around at the halls — lined with plastic chairs and of course occupied by its inhabitants' loved ones. Maybe one or two of those casually-clothed persons have no second thought on the crime their relative committed, given one mother's can't-be-bothered scold to a pestering child as she nurses another and the man on the phone at first muttering barely audible phrases like "wouldn't be here if" then after mumbling swears crescendoes unpleasant curse words to your ears. You bite your lip, fingers suddenly stiff but your nails so firmly rooted that they chip off the table's paint. Cowed, your gaze shifts back to the man.
His hair is a deep grey, and perhaps a thick streak stands out so lavishly because he wants it that way. It's evident since the rest is obediently combed with a visible hairline. His attire is neither practical nor a fashion statement: a maroon coat with black has some kind of unhappiness to the person sporting it, what with its dull colors. You'd almost think of him as some washed-up office worker if it weren't for the ascot proudly puffing itself under his collar. Today it's slightly more wrinkled, although you've never been bothered by these things. Besides, a Holmesian hunch that he's been through much isn't the same as an intuitive hunch; you don't call yourself an Ace Attorney abusively the same way you would disrespect the title of being a Great Detective. You grin at the lucky ancestry you get, cockiness almost getting it to a smirk.
"Wright."
"Yes...?"
"I know it's been some time since we... erm, met last..."
"Mm hmm."
"...but I would prefer you'd act a little more... professional."
"Eh?"
Your fingers strum at something softer and perhaps only slightly bony — and did you just touch something metallic? Also part of the Holmes' line of thinking is to never consider something unrelated to a case until everything is clear. Biting your lip at the possibility of murder, you look down...
...to the two hands outstretched through the glass opening.
"...Ehh?"
Two independent murder cases in as attorney, and you forget the surname that makes you jolt and weakly slap the desk with that signature look of humiliation.
